


Be My Eternity

by Imoshen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angsting, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Consent is Sexy, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Historically Inaccurate, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nicky's incubus allure, Oral Sex, Rune Master Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, boys falling in love, feels rearing their head, incubus Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: Snapshots of a universe where magic exists, starting with Rune Master Yusuf Al-Kaysani, who meets and kills and is killed by an incubus named Nicolò. (Of course he also falls in love, but that is a little more complicated...)Tags will change with further chapters!
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 103
Kudos: 197





	1. The way from Jerusalem

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a ficlet [luna_sol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_sol/pseuds/luna_sol) shared on the All And More discord server. 
> 
> This will not be an epic fic through the ages, but snapshots of the life of a Rune Master and an Incubus, and occasionally the rest of their immortal family.

Yusuf looks across the fire at the man – the _demon_ – seated on the other side. Nicolò looks exhausted, and far paler than is healthy even in the dim light the flames provide. It has gotten worse rather than better since they left the horrors of the war behind. Yusuf’s memories of that day on Jerusalem’s wall are hazy in parts and burned into his mind in others, and the appearance of his erstwhile enemy is among the latter.

He does not believe he will ever forget those eyes, not even when his beard has turned white – but no, he reminds himself. He cannot die, and the sun does not burn his skin anymore. He might not ever see his beard turn white, even if he lives to be an old man in years. Still, he will not forget the sight of those eyes, gleaming bright red in a way that is _not_ human. For all that they are unbecomingly pale now, he prefers them to that preternatural red.

Nicolò’s lips twitch and thin, and Yusuf realizes he has been staring at the demon for long enough to have made him uncomfortable. And if that is not strange – a demon, discomfited by the stare of a mere mortal. Well, not quite so mortal anymore, but the point still stands.

Yusuf returns his gaze to the dancing flames and tries to forget his travel companion’s haggard appearance. If it does not work quite as easy as it should… well, that is between Yusuf and Allah.

Over the endless days of travelling side by side, Yusuf beings to reconsider his erstwhile enemy. He would have preferred not to speak to him at all, cling to his hatred of the invaders who brought so much suffering, and he might have succeeded – had they not been spotted by a group of riders on the road one day. A group of riders, it turns out, who know Nicolò, and who are none too happy with him over travelling with a _heretic_ now. Insults are flung, and then blades are drawn – and while Yusuf does not enjoy doing battle for battle’s sake, he knows when to defend his own life.

He had half expected Nicolò to reconsider and re-join his former comrades, half expected him to be as merciless as he had been that day on the battlefield of Jerusalem – and finds himself proven wrong on both accounts. In the time it takes Yusuf to kill two of his opponents, both of them not having expected to come across a pissed-off Rune Master who does not fear injury, Nicolò killed one. Yusuf wipes his blade clean and stares.

Nicolò’s eyes are changed again, black from lid to lid except for the bright, fiery red of his irises. It isn’t that he is struggling with his opponent, Yusuf realizes after a few moments where he debated coming to Nicolò’s aid. No, the demon is _playing_ with the knight, the way a cat might play with a mouse. Yusuf’s Latin is passable, has to be for someone in his trade, so he understands the taunts Nicolò flings at the man. They surprise a laugh out of him. His demonic companion is possessed of a sharp tongue along with his sharp blade.

“Stop playing, Nicolò,” he finally calls out, trying to sound impatient. He does not quite manage, his tone far warmer than he likes. “We do not have all day.”

The demon’s bright red gaze snaps to Yusuf, and he seems to sigh. Still, his body language changes, as does his fighting. His opponent clearly doesn’t stand a chance, and it is not long until his blood spills over the dusty ground.

Yusuf will not admit it for months yet, but he is alarmed when Nicolò collapses almost in the same moment as the knight does. Thinking he might have been injured in a way Yusuf did not notice, he hurries over and rolls the demon onto his back, careful so as not to aggravate any injury… but he does not find a wound big enough to have brought Nicolò down. There are a few fresh tears in his tunic, but the skin has already mended beneath.

Nicolò makes a small noise, and Yusuf’s gaze snaps up to his face. The bright red is dulling, the black receding from his eyes already, and as Yusuf watches he grimaces, revealing a pair of long, sharp incisors that Yusuf is pretty certain weren’t that long or sharp when Nicolò was gnawing at the hare’s leg that was his dinner yesterday.

“That was not nearly as satisfying as I had hoped it might be. I’m still hungry,” Nicolò sighs, and Yusuf blinks.

“You’re an incubus,” he says and winces at his own lack of manners. It isn’t polite to just… blurt that out, but what is done, is done. Nicolò doesn’t look too offended, either. “Do you not need… sexual lusts to feed off?”

“That is usually the easiest to find,” Nicolò agrees. His hand waves weakly in the air before flopping back down. “But we _can_ survive off of all sorts of lust… as I discovered during this cursed campaign.”

Yusuf considers that as he watches the red and black fade entirely from Nicolò’s eyes, leaving behind the pale colouring Yusuf has not yet found a name for. The shadows beneath them might be a little less pronounced, he thinks. “The joy some find in battle?” he finally asks. “Is that what you survived on?”

“By necessity,” Nicolò says bitterly. His eyes slip shut for a long moment before he heaves himself to his feet, swaying before he finds his balance. “Well. At least we have horses now.”

“Nicolò.” Yusuf is not usually one to ignore such a blatant change of topic, but he _has_ to know. “Did you incite battle lust among those men? Was that why…”

Horror crosses over that pale face, so visceral Yusuf can almost feel its echo. “ _No_ ,” Nicolò grinds out, and his voice is harsher than ever before. He stalks over to where the horses are nosing at the ground, looking for grass to munch on, and his whole body is one long line of barely leashed fury. It almost hides the hurt beneath, but Yusuf is a Rune Master who has very recently tapped into his magic. He is still sensitive to his surroundings, and he can _see_ the hurt in the demon’s presence.

It should not hurt so much, Yusuf thinks as he climbs to his feet and goes to take the reins of another horse, to know that he is the reason the demon is this upset.

“I apologize,” Yusuf ventures that evening once camp has been made and the fire dances between them. Nicolò looks up from the tunic he is mending, his face closed off and almost emotionless. “I did not mean to imply that you are responsible for the horrors those men committed. My question was worded poorly, and I hurt you with my thoughtless words.”

Something stirs in that pale face before Nicolò looks back down to his mending. “I would not have done it,” he says quietly. “They lost themselves to bloodlust on their own, as men have done many times before. It does not matter if you consider yourself to be a Christian… though they have forgotten what it should mean to follow the teachings of the man from Nazareth.”

That tightly knit ball of pain and rage within Yusuf’s chest loosens a little. “You… did not take part in the campaign because you shared their cause?”

Pale eyes flick up. “No,” Nicolò says shortly, but there is less anger in the word. “A demon has to eat, and campaigns were an easy way to find a meal before everyone decided sex was a sin, and sex with another man an even worse sin. It was a foolish idea, but I had not realized how far that idiocy has spread. By the time I did… well, you saw how difficult it is even now to escape the reach of that army. There were a lot more of them when we set out, and a demon _can_ die by the sword… or by fire, though I do not think they had enough wood to spare to build a pyre.”

“Is that why you switched to feeding off the battle lust?” Yusuf asks. There’s so much anger and disgust in the words Nicolò spoke, but also such desperation. “To keep from being discovered?”

“Both being discovered as an incubus and being discovered being intimate with a man.” Nicolò’s face does something complicated. “I could have gone to the working ladies among the civilians, but they work hard enough without me feeding off their strength as well. For all that they preach about sin and the glories of chastity, word and deed are vastly different.”

Yusuf has to agree. “I apologize again,” he says quietly. “I believed… well. I was wrong and should not have assumed.”

“Apology accepted,” the incubus across the fire says, and for the first time there’s something like amusement around his mouth. “Given how we met, I would have made assumptions as well, in your place.”

Yusuf nods, and goes back to preparing their meal. If he makes sure Nicolò gets a little more in his bowl… well, Yusuf does not need it.

Despite being able to ride now instead of travelling on foot, and despite the provisions Yusuf secures them in a small town along the road in exchange for the dead knights’ gear they don’t need, Nicolò keeps getting weaker and paler, more visibly exhausted. Yusuf finds himself worrying about him more and more often, though it takes him far too long to realize what the problem is.

When he does understand, he wants to kick himself for overlooking the obvious for so long, but in his defence, he has never met an incubus before and his training did not include much about them except the basics. Well, the basics and a strong warning about their immunity against most magics.

Yusuf watches Nicolò almost fall as he dismounts, barely catching himself on the horse’s saddle, and something slots into place.

Nicolò eats, yes… but as far as Yusuf can tell, the only time he allowed himself to feed was during that short battle with the knights, which was weeks ago now. The demon is starving himself.

“Nicolò,” he says softly. Pale eyes turn to look at him, and Yusuf absently wonders when he stopped thinking of them as unattractive. Probably somewhere around the time they began to share the same side of the fire. “Nicolò, you need to feed.”

The incubus flinches as if Yusuf had struck him. “No.” It’s quiet but determined, and Nicolò busies himself with his pack and with setting up the nest of furs and blankets he sleeps in, making it clear he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

It’s just days later that Yusuf wakes up in the night and is not quite sure what woke him at first – his circle of protective runes around their camp is quiet and undisturbed – but then it comes again: a weak, pained noise from where Nicolò’s nest of blankets is. Yusuf pushes himself up onto his elbow, looking over to him. Nicolò is curled tightly in on himself, and still Yusuf can see his shivering. “Nicolò?”

The blankets twitch and still for a heartbeat before the shivering returns. “C-cold,” Nicolò whispers, sounding miserable. “S-s-sorry.”

Damnit, Yusuf thinks as he throws his own blankets back to stoke the fire higher. It’s not truly cold tonight and they are sheltered by a few trees and low brushes as well, but he can make an educated guess why Nicolò would be cold even next to a fire and curled up in his blankets. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “Let me help.”

Nicolò doesn’t protest when Yusuf helps him sit down close to the fire – he is shockingly weak, and far too light Yusuf discovers, and mentally kicks himself for not intervening sooner. He shivers and watches as Yusuf rearranges their blankets and furs into a single, larger nest, and then he does try to protest when Yusuf helps him curl into it and lies down next to him. “Don’t,” he whispers, still shivering miserably and yet trying to get away. “I’ll harm you.”

Yusuf raises an eyebrow at him and pins one of Nicolò’s arms to the ground. “Tell me how you plan on harming me if you are too weak to even break free of my hold,” he says, and softens when Nicolò’s wide eyes stare up at him with something too close to fear. “Nicolò, you need to feed, and I am here and willing to help. Is that not enough?”

Nicolò’s eyes widen and he tries to tug his hand free again. “I’ll drain you!” he whispers. “Let me go, please Yusuf!”

“We are immortal,” Yusuf reminds him and keeps his fingers wrapped around that wrist. “You cannot truly harm me, Nicolò. Do not make me watch you starve to death, I beg you.”

Nicolò stares up at him, confusion written plain on his face. “What?”

Yusuf gentles his grasp, strokes his hand down a pale arm. “Are we not friends by now, Nicolò?” he asks. “Do we not trust each other with our sleep? You are dear to me. To watch you starve and be able to help… do not ask that of me, please.”

Nicolò’s eyes slip closed, but he doesn’t protest any further, so Yusuf leans down and brushes his mouth against Nicolò’s lips. He sucks in an involuntary breath at their soft fullness against his own, and then Nicolò parts his lips on a sigh and invites him in, and Yusuf falls willingly.

They kiss for a long time, slow and soft at first, then with growing hunger. Kissing an incubus, even one so weakened, is a heady experience. Nicolò’s body is warming beneath Yusuf’s, he’s making soft, eager noises against his mouth. Despite his weakened state Yusuf can feel him grow hard against his hip, and his body is reacting far faster than he is used to. He has no idea if that is Nicolò’s influence or Nicolò himself or just that it has been months upon months since he felt anyone’s touch but his own. Possibly a combination of all of that.

“What do you need,” he asks against Nicolò’s kiss-slick lips, flicks his tongue out for another taste. “Tell me, Nicolò.”

Nicolò makes a soft, needy noise. “Just… enjoy it,” he whispers, his hips rocking up weakly. “Only… skin to skin.”

  
Yusuf strokes both hands up Nicolò’s arms and gently presses his wrists into the furs over his head. “Keep them there,” he murmurs. “Let me do the work, yes?”

A low moan is his answer, and Yusuf doesn’t think he has ever stripped his clothes off so fast before – or stripped a lover of their clothes so fast before. Nicolò is pale all over, he discovers, long-limbed and lithe. His cock is hard and flushed and resting against his belly, and Yusuf’s mouth waters just looking at it. “Once you are stronger,” he murmurs as he crawls back up, settles on top of his incubus again, “I will pin you down and take my time with you, taste you all over until you scream for me.”

Nicolò whines low in his throat, his arms coming up to wrap around Yusuf’s shoulders. Yusuf spots a gleam of red between his lids and smiles to see it. He aligns their erections and rocks against Nicolò, enjoys the low sound of pleasure he wrenches from his incubus. “But for now, this will do.”

“Yes,” Nicolò whispers, voice rough. “Yes, oh yes…”

It’s a low, sweet litany falling from his lips as Yusuf rocks them together, kisses Nicolò’s throat and his cheek and returns to his mouth again and again for those sweet kisses. He chases the flush blooming on Nicolò’s cheeks, hissing when Nicolò’s nails bite into his shoulders. It’s intoxicating to feel the strength return to that beautiful body the longer they rock together, feel Nicolò stir and wrap around him and move with him.

Yusuf has no idea how long they lie there, rocking against each other and losing themselves in kisses. He only knows that his skin is starting to feel too tight, too hot, and his body is tingling with the need to find his release. He nibbles along Nicolò’s jaw to his ear. “Will you come with me? Nicolò…”

“Yes,” his incubus groans, immediately. “Yes, oh Yusuf, please…”

It’s as if his body was waiting for that permission. Yusuf’s eyes want to slip closed, but he keeps them open through sheer force of will as he rocks faster, harder, the slide of their length against each other made smooth by sweat and pre-come. He wants to watch Nicolò come for the first time, wants the memory of him pliant and needy beneath Yusuf burned into his mind the way the warrior already is.

Tension builds and overflows, spilling hot and slick between them. Yusuf gasps out Nicolò’s name, digs his fingers into the fur beneath them and watches Nicolò’s eyes snap wide, watches him arch and gasp and break.

Nicolò in the throes of release is mesmerizing, otherworldly. His red-and-black eyes, the sharp fangs in his mouth, the hint of magic in the air… Yusuf whines as his body twitches and writhes against Nicolò’s without his conscious decision, and he will never know for sure but he thinks he might come a second time, short and sharp and sweet.

Nicolò goes lax beneath him, his arms slipping form Yusuf’s shoulders. Yusuf is alarmed for only a heartbeat before he peers at Nicolò’s face and sees the slack, sated expression, the closed eyes.

His incubus is asleep, but he looks much healthier already. Yusuf smiles and rolls onto his side, wincing at the mess they made between them. He wipes it up as best he can with a piece of his tunic, then pulls Nicolò into his arms and settles into their nest for a little more sleep, himself.

Yusuf wakes to empty arms, which is _wrong_. He clearly remembers falling asleep with Nicolò’s warmth against his chest, and the absence wakes him up far faster than he usually would.

The incubus hasn’t gone far, is sitting next to the embers of their fire – but Yusuf can tell at first glance that something is wrong. Nicolò’s legs are tucked up tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His face is pressed into his knees, and he is rocking back and forth, a picture of abject misery. Yusuf’s heart clenches.

“Nicolò, what happened?”

He cannot but fear he is at fault – did Nicolò change his mind after all, and did not dare to tell him No again? But then Nicolò’s head snaps up, and there is such relief on his face when he sees Yusuf awake and none the worse for wear. Yusuf crawls out from beneath their blankets, not caring that he is naked in the early morning air. He wants to embrace Nicolò, hold him close and reassure him, but the man flinches back as Yusuf approaches. Heart a heavy weight in his chest, Yusuf sinks to his knees an arm’s length away.

“Nicolò,” he says softly. “Please, talk to me. Did I hurt you, last night? Did I… did I force myself on you?”

Nicolò stares, his eyes wide. For a moment that feels like an eternity, Yusuf thinks the answer will be _yes_ , that Nicolò was too weak from hunger to deny him and he _did not see_ …

“No!” It bursts out of Nicolò with surprising strength. Yusuf, who has gotten used to his weakened, soft voice, almost falls over backwards with the surprise. Nicolò has not moved, but there is now a high flush on his cheeks and tears gathering in his eyes. Yusuf’s poor heart clenches at the sight. “Yusuf – _I_ was the one to force _you_!”

He said it. Nicolò feels nauseous, despite not having eaten anything of substance since yesterday evening. He feels so much better, physically… but he wishes to every God there might be he didn’t. If he didn’t, if last night _had_ been a dream…

Yusuf looks so confused, still crouched naked on the sand almost within touching distance. He looks beautiful in the early morning light, and he has been so kind to Nicolò… but how much of that was his decision at all? How long has he been influencing the man without even noticing it? Nicolò bites back a sob.

“Nicolò,” Yusuf says, and _oh_ , his name sounds so lovely in that accented voice. “You were too weak to even walk on your own last night. You could not have forced me into anything if you had _tried_.”

Tears burn hot in Nicolò’s eyes. “I’m an incubus, Yusuf! Influencing people into wanting to sleep with me is what I do!”

Yusuf is still crouched on the sand, looking so calm. Nicolò waits for the spell to break as it always does, for the anger and the accusations. When all that happens is that Yusuf sits down on their blankets again – Nicolò flashes back to the warmth of Yusuf’s hand around his wrist, the slick wetness of his mouth, and he _knows_ his eyes are starting to burn red again with renewed hunger. He swallows the needy whine and presses his face against his knees again: He listens to the rustles of Yusuf getting up and getting dressed – or so he guesses from the sounds of fabric. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to see the moment Yusuf will walk away, doesn’t want to see the disgust on his face. Yusuf’s warmth and that tempting, tempting hint of lust he’s _still_ giving off (Nicolò moans without making a single sound, still so hungry) come closer and then pause next to him. Nicolò does his best to hold still, to not flinch away from the kick or the hit or maybe the bite of his blade –

Warmth. Gentle, soft warmth that smells of Yusuf and him both, draped around his shoulders. Nicolò does flinch when arms wrap around his shoulders along with the blanket, curling in tighter on himself. Yusuf must still be in his thrall, and he desperately tries to think of a way to break it – if he dies, will it end?

“Stop it, my darling.” Gentle words, so much gentler than he deserves. “Nicolò, please look at me?”

It is sheer cruelty, to be asked to face what he has done – to think there might have grown trust between them, maybe a friendship even, and that he was the one to ruin it because he could not control himself… but then, maybe this is his punishment. Nicolò sucks in a breath and lifts his head, opens his eyes.

There is no disgust, no anger. There is only open worry, and then pain as Yusuf sees the wet stains of tears tracking down Nicolò’s face. His anguish must be plain on his face, and he would burn with the humiliation of being thus seen, thus known, but this is Yusuf… and then there are warm hands cradling his cheeks, and Yusuf’s dry mouth pressing kisses to his forehead, his cheeks. Nicolò sobs harder.

“Nico, my darling.” Yusuf’s voice is low in his ear, and Nicolò wants to keen in desperation. “My sweet, foolish incubus. I am a _Rune Master_ , not a helpless damsel. I knew what you were before we set out from Jerusalem. I guarded myself against an incubus’ talent before I lay down to sleep across the fire that first night, and I have not lifted them. I forgot,” and there is embarrassed humour in his voice, but all Nicolò heard was _I guarded myself_. It rings in his ears, in his mind, and he stares up at Yusuf incredulously.

“You cannot mean that,” he rasps. “You cannot…”

“It was my own free choice to share myself with you last night,” Yusuf tells him earnestly. His hands still cradle Nicolò’s head, hold him still so he can’t look away. “And I certainly intend to do it again, if you are willing.”

The bedamned tears are still dripping from Nicolò’s eyes. “Do not pity me,” he hisses, unable to bear the thought… but Yusuf shakes his head at him.

“Do not be a fool, Nico. Did you not taste my desire last night? Can you not taste it even now? I could not pity you, my fierce, strong Nicolò.”

Nicolò stares, almost breathless, for a long moment before the truth of the words sinks in – there is honest desire bleeding off Yusuf in shallow waves, tempered by worry and warmed by affection. It is so much more than he ever dared hope for, and Nicolò _breaks_. The stress and worry of the past months, the constant hunger, the horror of waking up to the belief he had forced Yusuf into desiring him… fresh tears spill over in a hot, salty flood.

Yusuf’s arms are strong and warm where they wrap around him, and his shoulder turns out to be perfectly shaped to hide against as Nicolò sobs. He rocks Nicolò in his arms and murmurs soothingly against his hair, and when Nicolò has finally run out of tears he is guided back to their nest – an echo of the dream-like recollection he has of last night, and Nicolò shivers at it – and tucked into Yusuf’s arms.

“It is yet early,” Yusuf murmurs against his ear. “Rest a little more, my darling. We can afford a little break in our travels.”

Nicolò wants to protest, wants to say they should press forward, find a city they can stay in for a while… but Yusuf is warm, and smells of lust and contentment, and Nicolò _is_ exhausted.

Sleep rolls up to claim him, and the last thing he knows is the brush of Yusuf’s mouth against his cheek.


	2. Needs After A Long Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long mission, Joe is exhausted and on edge. Nicky can help with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is beans_on_toast's fault. She asked "Does Joe ever drop the runes protecting him from Nicky's allure?" and then there were complaints in the Tavern that we don't have enough cock warming fics yet and next thing I knew, this was happening.   
> So, yeah. Cheers.

Nobody planned for this mission to turn into _such_ a mess. Not even Andy was quite prepared for it, which is saying something. Andy is prepared for almost everything.

They ended up chasing their prey literally all over the world – Russia, then a fun detour through China, then Russia again, then Canada and into Greenland. Killing him once they caught up with him was another matter entirely – nobody should be that bloated on power, and it took Lykon’s claws to finish him off while Andy, Quỳnh and Joe threw magic at him and Nicky, Nile and Booker _protected them_. It was a hot mess, they were very lucky it happened in the middle of nowhere where ice was the only witness and the only victim, and Joe made very, very certain the spells their target developed will never be used by anyone else ever again.

The resulting fire was spectacular and might have melted part of a glacier.

They’re all exhausted, physically and magically. There was no time for breaks, no time to recover a little of their strength. It means Joe feels twitchy and strung-out even after three days of rest and recovery in a safehouse, with no other magic users around. They figured that one out early on: if a mission is bad magic-usage wise, they need to split up because even the others’ presence will rub them wrong for a few days. Andy and Quỳnh went back north where their water- and wind-based magic will do the least damage, Lykon and Nile grabbed Booker and dragged him with them to the African Savannah where Lykon can spend as much time in his were-form as he wants, and Joe and Nicky… well, Joe and Nicky went back to Italy. It’s not Malta, but they don’t have enough time for a proper Malta vacation.

Usually, the small home hidden away in the Tuscany hills is enough to calm Joe’s nerves and allows him to relax. Not this time, it seems – he’s still jumping at shadows and twitching even from Nicky’s familiar magic brushing his.

It’s why, the third morning over breakfast, he puts down his coffee and looks at Nicky until the incubus raises his head from his own cup and blinks at him.

“Yes, hayati?”

Joe breathes out, allows that familiar gaze to ground him a little. “I need to stop thinking,” he admits. “Is… I want to drop the runes.”

Nicky doesn’t ask which runes – there’s only one set Joe asks him about dropping, once very specific set he re-casts regularly. He just smiles a little wider, showing off the tips of his sharp fangs. The glamor is already thinning.

“Tell me once before you do it,” he requests, oddly vulnerable despite the fangs, despite the red and black beginning to bleed into his eyes. Joe breathes out and reaches for the well of emotions in his soul labelled _Nicky_.

“I love you,” he tells his husband. “You’re my North Star, my warmth and my light and my everything. You’re my incubus, my beautiful seductive demon. I love you, and I trust you with my heart and my soul.”

Nicky’s smile grows luminous, so happy he should be glowing with it. “And I love you,” he murmurs, slipping into the language they first spoke those words in. “My air, my freedom and my strength. Drop the runes, Yusuf.”

Joe draws on his magic and traces the counter-runes in the air and feels the difference immediately. He loves Nicky, loves all of him – but now he’s even more beautiful, alluring in a way he normally isn't to Joe. His lips appear softer, fuller, more inviting, and his eyes shine and promise wicked, wicked things. Joe swallows, feels his cock stir in his pants and his blood heat in his veins.

“What do you need, my beautiful Yusuf?” the demon seated at their table asks, his voice a deep purr that raises the hairs on Joe’s arms. He breathes past the initial surge of sheer lust Nicky’s incubus allure woke, licks his lips.

“Just you,” he says. “I want to drown in you, Nico.”

His demon smiles and pushes his chair back. “Come here.”

Joe hastens to obey, hurries around the table and hits his knees between Nicky’s spread legs. This close, he can tell how good his husband smells, and his mouth waters as his dick hardens further. Warm hands stroke his hair back, cup his face and Joe nuzzles into them, relaxing already. Nicky’s allure is made stronger by his own desire, and it quietens the maelstrom of stirred-up magic inside Joe.

“Did you finish your breakfast?” Nicky asks, calm and quiet. Joe nods, all but purring as fingers dig into his curls to massage his scalp. Nicky kisses him, slow and soft. He tastes sooo good, too… Joe whines a little when the kiss ends.

“Hush, I’ve got you love.” Nicky’s voice curls around him, a caress in itself. “I want you to go undress and wait for me by the couch in the living room, can you do that for me?”

On the one hand, it means giving up Nicky’s hands in his hair, his body so close Joe can _taste_ his scent on his tongue. On the other hand, Nicky’s plans are always worth following along, and the living room is drenched in sunlight and so, so warm. Joe licks his lips. “Can I have another kiss?”

Nicky chuckles and holds him still for it, kisses him until they’re breathless. “Now go,” he murmurs against Joe’s wet lips. With his kiss still burning on Joe’s mouth, his taste still fresh on his tongue, it’s easy to obey.

Joe sinks to his knees next to the big couch, the thick carpet plush against his knees and the sunlight warm against his skin where it’s already streaming in through the big windows. It’s winter, so it’s a welcome warmth, and Joe basks in it.

“You are beautiful, my love.”

Nicky’s voice doesn’t startle him – he could hear him walk into the room, his naked footsteps deliberately loud. He still sucks in a breath when he sees Nicky. His husband changed into wide, loose pants and a shirt that clings to him, showing off his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His glamor is gone, showing off all his incubus traits, and Joe moans and shivers with his hunger.

“Beautiful,” Nicky repeats, and then he’s sprawled out on the couch, coffee and a book within easy reach. “Come here.”

Joe crawls up onto the couch, stretches out between Nicky’s legs with his nose almost pressed against the tempting bulge his dick makes in the soft material of his pants. He breathes in deep and whines low in his throat, earns himself a low chuckle.

“Let me have your mouth, my darling.”

Joe is careful when he pulls the waistband of the pants down far enough that he can comfortably reach Nicky’s dick. His husband is half-hard despite Nicky’s infamous self-control, and Joe considers it a compliment. He gives a quick lick along the shaft and listens to the low groan it earns him before he opens his mouth and takes the whole length in. The weight on his tongue is immediately grounding, the familiar taste calming and arousing in one. Joe shifts so his own erection is more comfortably pressed between his belly and the sofa, rests his head on Nicky’s thigh and closes his eyes. He sighs happily when a hand drops to his head and starts absently playing with his hair.

Nicky’s incubus allure is strong enough to overpower everything else, even the residual magic of the runes Joe himself laid around their home. It’s a constant, warm hum around him, occupying all his senses and not allowing him to focus on anything but how much he wants Nicky, how good he smells, how delicious his taste is.

The weight of the cock in his mouth, of Nicky’s hand in his hair grounds him in his body, reminds him he is more than a vessel for magic and runes. He drifts, surrounded by Nicky and his thoughts quieted, his mind occupied with his lust for his demon.

It’s Nicky’s voice that eventually draws him back to the surface. There’s an amused lilt to his words, but Joe needs a while before he can make sense of them.

“… need you here with me for that, hayati.”

Joe groans, blinking up at Nicky. He slowly registers Nicky is hard in his mouth, tastes the bitter flavor of his lust. Then he realizes he is moving, his hips rocking into the sofa, and he flushes and whines around Nicky’s cock. His incubus cups his cheek.

“Hush, darling, you’re doing so well for me. Come up here, let me taste you, yes?”

The idea of Nicky’s kiss is enough to convince Joe to let Nicky’s cock slip from his mouth. He crawls up the length of Nicky’s body, clumsy with how adrift he still is and how much he wants his husband. Nicky kisses him deep and hungry, licks his own taste out of Joe’s mouth with a little growl. Joe whines and presses closer, trembles when Nicky’s fangs press against his lip.

“How do you want me,” Nicky murmurs into his ear, greedy hands stroking up and down Joe’s back, squeezing at his ass. “Tell me, hmmm?”

Joe can’t think, not really… but he knows what he wants. “Fuck me,” he manages, flushing deeper at how needy his voice already is. Nicky purrs at him, his big hands squeezing Joe’s ass.

“Whatever you want.”

Nicky’s strong hands guide Joe onto his side, push up one of his legs to spread him open. Joe pants into the upholstery and whimpers when slick fingers stroke and rub at his hole. Nicky mouths at his throat while his fingers work Joe open, gentle but relentless. It feels as if he’s stoking the fire in Joe’s belly higher and higher until he’s aflame with it, nothing on his mind but Nicky’s mouth on his throat and Nicky’s heat at his back and Nicky’s fingers in his hole. He whimpers when they slip free and leave him empty, and Nicky shushes him with gentle murmurs. The first push of his cock into Joe’s body is good enough he thinks he might come from that alone, but Nicky’s fingers are wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. Joe sobs out his need and tries to push back, tries to get more.

“Gods, I love you like this,” Nicky murmurs into his ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re gone for me, Joe… could just keep you like that every damn time, naked and begging and needy for whatever I give you...”

“Please,” Joe gasps out, wanting to be whatever Nicky needs right now. “Please, Nico, please…”

“Shshsh, my good boy.” Nicky’s lips drag over his cheek, sharp fangs nip his ear. The fingers around his cock ease their grip and Nicky pushes deep, hitting his prostate, and all the nerves along Joe’s spine and his dick light up like a Christmas tree. He doesn’t have the breath to scream, but his body jerks in Nicky’s hold as he spills over Nicky’s fingers. The fire burning in his belly doesn’t dim, just flickers and burns brighter. His cock doesn’t even soften, doesn’t get a chance before Nicky’s moving, rocking into him almost lazily. Joe whimpers and melts against him.

“There we go, fuck you’re so tasty,” Nicky purrs into his ear. His hand strokes up and down Joe’s belly. “You’re going to give me more, aren’t you?”

Joe moans. “Yes,” he agrees, letting his head loll back against Nicky. He catches a glimpse of bright red eyes on black and shivers, his arousal burning higher. “Fuck, Nico, please, more!”

“Such a greedy thing,” Nicky purrs. Joe’s cock twitches at the words and the tone. “You’re made for me, so willing to be my plaything.”

Nicky’s pace picks up, and Joe whimpers at the overstimulation and the lust pooling in his limbs. It hurts, in the best ways, and he wants more, wants it all. He wants to be full of Nicky and wants Nicky to use his body however his incubus wants to use him, wants to drown in him.

“I know,” Nicky agrees, and oh fuck, did he say that out loud? Joe flushes harder, and the demon fucking him silly chuckles. “I like hearing you babble for me,” his fingers dance up Joe’s belly and over his chest and tap his lips, “but if you want to be silenced, well…”

Joe makes a low, desperate noise and sucks those offered fingers in, wraps his lips around them and licks at them as if they were Nicky’s cock. His eyes close in bliss, and he barely hears Nicky’s low groan.

His second orgasm washes over him almost lazily, and he sucks a little harder on the fingers in his mouth as Nicky breathes low curses into his ear and fucks him through it. The third is a low ache that makes him sob and has Nicky kiss his cheek and purr gentle praise. By the fourth, Joe has forgotten anything that isn't Nicky, Nicky’s touch and taste and scent. He’s only aware that Nicky stopped moving, is murmuring into his ear, his free hand stroking Joe’s chest.

Joe falls asleep like that, exhausted and sated, Nicky’s still-hard cock nestled deep into his hole and his fingers between Joe’s lips.

He sleeps deeper than he did in any of the days before.


	3. Along The Riverbank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuf and Nicolò travel further away from Jersualem, and grow closer. A night spend at the river, and in each other's arms.

Nicolò finishes tying his packs to his horse’s saddle and pats the animal’s neck. “Now, where did our Rune Master disappear to, hmm?”

The gelding huffs at him and pushes his soft nose into Nicolò’s hands, probably looking for a treat. It’s not a helpful answer, but Nicolò doesn’t have to resort to more drastic measures. Yusuf appears out of the moving mass of people between the market stalls, bearing his own load of packages. His face lights up when he spots Nicolò with their horses, and it warms Nicolò better than the sun ever could. To be met with such warmth, such joy by one who knows what he is… it almost feels like coming home, and Nicolò has long since decided he will do everything in his power to keep Yusuf safe, to have him smile at Nicolò that way every day for the rest of their lives. Considering the lack of death where they both well and truly should have died, it might mean many, many days indeed.

The thought holds no dread for Nicolò now, only a strange, calm joy he can’t remember having felt before.

“Are we finished then?” Yusuf asks when he is close enough. Nicolò strokes his horse’s nose one last time and nods, stepping around the animal to take half of Yusuf’s burden so he can start to load the rest onto his own horse.

“We have everything we need for quite a while, and we can hunt or fish along the way.” For all that he wanted to find a larger city to live in for a while, now Nicolò wants nothing more than to leave again, be back on the road with nobody but Yusuf and their horses for company. He is jealous of Yusuf’s attention, his smiles, wants him all to himself. A tiny part of him is yelling at him, telling him this is too far, too fast, to guard his heart and his remaining secrets because surely, no man will wish to _stay_ with an incubus… but the larger part basks in the warmth of Yusuf’s attention, the ease with which Yusuf accepts that Nicolò not only enjoys sex, but _needs_ it the way Yusuf needs water and food.

They have meandered their way north and didn’t decide on a particular destination except “not where the Christian army is”, so today Nicolò mounts his horse and follows Yusuf when the man picks a road at random. It meets up with a small stream a few miles away from the settlement they just left and doesn’t leave again. Nicolò glances at the water, considers how deep it is and how cold it might be, and glances at Yusuf. “Do you happen to have a spell that might warm that up?” he asks. “Because I think I’d like a wash, but with how fast that water is going we’re likely to freeze our balls off if we go in there.”

Yusuf traces a single, glowing rune into the air – Nicolò has learned that one in the meantime, knows it does nothing on its own but is the basic of many of Yusuf’s spells – and grins. “You are such a spoiled thing sometimes. We might have to find an inlet or make one, but I can give you warm water, yes.”

Nicolò snorts. “You’re a showoff,” he fires back, “and just as spoiled as I am. I noticed how quickly you washed in that last stream.”

Yusuf laughs, bright and happy. It rings out in the empty landscape around them, curls around Nicolò and into his heart.

The road eventually departs from the river, and Nicolò and Yusuf decide to follow the water and find a spot to set up their camp. What they find is a shallow inlet where the stream goes wide. There is a little underbrush to gather firewood from and to use as a shelter, and Nicolò builds a fire and lays out their blankets in the by-now customary nest while Yusuf traces runes into the sand in a wide perimeter around their camp, protection from discovery and attack and the cold night air as much as is possible. Nicolò glances up at the cloudless sky and settles their blankets closer to the fire.

“Spoiled,” Yusuf repeats when he returns from warding, but it’s said with a smile and a gentle squeeze to Nicolò’s shoulder. “And here I am about to spoil you even more.”

Nicolò looks up and smiles, and he can feel his fangs press a little against his upper lip. It’s so easy to let go with Yusuf, so easy to feel safe enough to reveal what he is. “You’re so good to me,” he purrs, allows his voice to go low and gravelly. Yusuf’s lust tastes like fine, fine wine, sweet and heady, and Nicolò can scent the first hints of it rising off of him now. “Go warm up that water and bathe, I will have food waiting when you are done.”

Yusuf stares at him for a long moment, clearly a little under his spell – and not Nicolò’s allure, no. Nicolò insists Yusuf re-casts those runes regularly, watches him do it every time. He’s well enough now that he’s confident he has his allure under control, but to wake up to a Yusuf who was compelled into sleeping with him because Nicolò slipped has rapidly become one of his personal nightmares. To see Yusuf react to _just_ Nicolò… he chuckles and flicks a bit of sand in Yusuf’s general direction. “Go wash.”

Yusuf goes, and Nicolò settles in at the fire to create a meal out of their purchases.

Freshly clean, his prayers done in the safety of his own wards and the knowledge that Nicolò would protect him from any attacker, warmed from the fire and with a bowl of food in his hands, Yusuf could be a content man. He _is_ , in fact… but still, he can’t help but glance at Nicolò every now and then as the man prepares for his own bath.

For all that they’ve traded kisses and worked each other to very satisfying release almost every evening since that morning when Nicolò cried in Yusuf’s arms until his eyes were red and angry, they still haven’t laid each other bare. Yusuf isn't quite sure why – maybe it is a little that they are on the road, and to be naked with each other feels like something that should happen in a home, a space where nobody can stumble upon them. Maybe it is because he is loath to admit that he is not as well-versed in the ways of lovemaking as Nicolò surely is. Maybe… maybe. Whatever the reason, it is incredibly tempting to watch Nicolò as he undresses and wades into the water Yusuf spelled warm for them.

He holds out against the urge until he hears Nicolò groan. It’s a groan of pleasure, and it could easily be in appreciation of the water, but it’s also a sound Yusuf has heard him make when Yusuf nibbled at that particular spot on the incubus’ throat, or rubbed his fingers over one perked nipple, or slotted his thigh between Nicolò’s to give him something to rub against.

Yusuf looks up – and has to bite his tongue to keep his own noise in.

Nicolò must have just ducked beneath the surface, because the water is streaming off his broad shoulders and muscled back, drips from the ends of his thick hair. Yusuf cannot but follow the line those droplets take, gleaming against pale skin in the warm light of the setting sun. The water comes up to just below Nicolò’s rear, and oh, Nicolò doesn’t look starved at all anymore. Yusuf yearns to join him, trace the full shape of that beautiful behind with his fingers, his lips… Nicolò bends at the waist, hands dipping into the water again, and Yusuf yanks his gaze back to his food with flaming cheeks, uncomfortably aware of the hardness in his breeches.

But now that he’s seen Nicolò, it’s too late. Every faint splash of water fuels his fantasy, has him imagine Nicky running his wet hands over his skin… and they bought soap at the market, so there would be the faint scent of citrus and herbs in the air… Nicolò sighs, and Yusuf glances up again almost before he realizes he’s doing it.

Nicolò has turned, both hands raised to his hair as he’s cleaning it, and the way he stands… Yusuf’s mouth goes dry at his first glimpse of Nicolò in all his glory. The dark trail of hair starting just below his navel, leading down to a thicker patch around his… very erect… cock… Yusuf’s mind goes very empty, the way it does when he concentrates on holding a particularly difficult spell. Only this time, there is no magic at his fingertips and thrumming through his body, only a deep, growing hunger.

The water ripples as Nicolò shifts, and then he’s moving… wading out of the water. It seems reluctant to let him go, stroking over strong thighs and calves, and Yusuf finds himself irrationally jealous of a body of water. Nicolò stops at the riverbank where his clothes lay in a heap. Yusuf watches him sort through his pack and emerge with a small blade that is shaped rather familiar.

Yusuf swallows and very consciously returns his attention to his food. He doesn’t think he can watch Nicolò shave and stay seated, or silent. And while it’s certainly not good manners to spy on his companion the way he has… well, it would be even worse manners to sit there and stroke himself while watching him, or even join him in the water to kiss that freshly-shaved skin.

The splashing of water resumes, and Yusuf very firmly concentrates on eating his food, the very tasty food Nicolò made for him, and the warmth of the fire in front of him and the sounds of their horses, settling for the night. He does it so well that he actually startles when Nicolò sinks down next to him.

The incubus chuckles when he jumps, but Yusuf’s poor brain is already giving up again because Nicolò is wearing just his tunic, long legs stretched out in front of him. There are still water droplets gleaming on the skin, and Yusuf very badly wants to lick them up.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò purrs, and oh by Yusuf’s merciful ancestors, _that voice_. “You remember I am an incubus, yes? I can tell how badly you want me right now.”

Yusuf nearly inhales the bite of food in his mouth. Of course Nicolò would be able to tell that he has been sitting here lusting over him, the man feeds on lust! He can feel the heat crawl into his cheeks as he regains his breath and dares to glance at Nicolò from the corner of his eye. The incubus is watching him with a fond smile, and there is just a hint of red on black in his eyes. Yusuf swallows.

“Should I apologize for spying on you?”

Another low sound of amusement, Nicolò leaning against Yusuf’s side. He’s warm even through the layers of clothing. “If I wanted privacy, I would have asked you to wait until after sunset to give us warm water,” he purrs. “Are you sated, Yusuf?”

The bowl in his hands is empty, and Yusuf wonders when that happened. He sets it aside, carefully away from the fire, and nods. “Thank you,” he manages.

“Well,” and Nicolò drawls the word, his voice that low murmur again that goes straight to Yusuf’s dick. His mouth brushes Yusuf’s throat as he speaks. “Then how about you come here and sate _me_ , hmm?”

His incubus is exceptionally good at seduction, and this is really something Yusuf should have guessed. Nicolò has been more open, more willing to ask for what he wanted lately, but this… this is as forward as Nicolò has been with him, and Yusuf finds he enjoys it very much.

Kissing Nicolò is still exciting and exhilarating, and Yusuf could happily lose himself in it for a long time. Nicolò apparently has other ideas. When he breaks their kiss and sits back, Yusuf is more than a little proud to see his eyes have gone full black, red irises gleaming a little in the firelight. Nicolò smiles, showing off his sharp fangs, and stretches out on his side. He holds out an arm, inviting Yusuf in, and then tugs the blankets over them both. It’s nice and warm in their little nest of blankets and furs, and Yusuf goes more than willingly when Nicolò tugs him back in for more slow, soft kisses. Fangs scrape his lower lip, just a hint of pain that disappears almost immediately, and Yusuf shivers and presses closer to Nicolò. “What do you want, my darling?” he asks against Nicolò’s kiss-slick lips. “Tell me.”

Nicolò hums, his lips brushing along Yusuf’s throat, up to his ear. “Did you find oil at the market?” The question is breathed against the shell of Yusuf’s ear, followed by a wet tongue playing with the lobe. Yusuf shivers, because it is far more erotic than it should really be.

“Yes,” he stretches out a hand towards his pack, set down within reach, and manages to find the stoppered bottle blindly. Nicolò’s mouth is still busy at his ear, doing a very good job of distracting him. “The merchant tried to flirt with me, too.”

An amused hum, then sharp fangs at his throat. “I cannot truly blame them,” Nicolò whispers, and his fangs scrape just so over Yusuf’s throat. “Though I would dearly love to. You are mine, Yusuf… for as long as we share this, you are _mine_.”

Yusuf’s whole body shivers, and he thinks his soul does, too. There’s such command in Nicolò’s voice, like a brand placed upon him. A seal, marking him as Nicolò’s, and one he willingly accepts. “I told him I was taken,” he whispers, feels the pleased purr rumble through the demon he’s pressed up against. Nicolò’s fingers glide up his arm, tug his hand back into the warmth of their nest.

“Good,” Nicolò breathes. He rolls them until Yusuf is on his back, Nicolò’s weight and strength pressing him into the furs that are their bed. He’s cradled between Yusuf’s legs where they fell open for him, just the fabric of their tunics separating them from skin-on-skin contact. Yusuf strokes his hands up Nicolò’s back, feels the shiver run through his lover, and then Nicolò is squirming, rucking his tunic up until it is bunched up around his chest. He does the same to Yusuf, his hands almost too hot against Yusuf’s skin, and Yusuf pulls him back into his arms and kisses him again, enjoys the scrape of fangs against his lips, his tongue. He has almost forgotten the vial that dropped into the furs, until Nicolò holds it up with a wicked smile. Yusuf shivers at the promise it holds, but he can’t help but tense a little. Pressed as close as they are, Nicolò notices.

“Have you done it before?” he asks, tilts the vial a little. “Penetration?”

Yusuf swallows. “Once,” he admits. “With someone who… didn’t know what we were doing either. I didn’t enjoy it very much.”

Nicolò’s expression softens, and then Yusuf is being kissed again, slow and sweet this time. “I will change that,” the incubus promises in a low, husky whisper. “But that will have to wait until I can spread you out on a bed and take my sweet time with you, my Rune Master. For now… let me show you something else.”

Yusuf is still a little tense, a little nervous. The memory of that tumble in his youth is not a fond one at all, but Nicolò’s kiss and his warm hands are slowly pushing it far, far back… and he trusts the incubus he went to bed with. He lets himself be urged onto his side, shivers when Nicolò pressed himself tightly against his back. Nicolò’s erection slips snugly between the cheeks of Yusuf’s ass, and he shudders with how good it feels. Nicolò’s low groan against his ear tells him his lover is enjoying it just as much.

“Oh, that’s nice too,” Nicolò murmurs, rocking his hips just a little. It drags his cock against Yusuf’s skin, against his entrance, and Yusuf shivers with the sensation. Nicolò chuckles. His lips brush Yusuf’s ear, then his hand is stroking down his belly and cupping his thigh. “Lift your leg just a little… yes, like that.”

They work together to remove the stopper from the vial, and Yusuf pours a little of it into Nicolò’s cupped palm before setting the vial aside, carefully nudging it into the sand so it will remain standing. Nicolò’s mouth has returned to his neck, soft nibbles and then sharp scrapes of fangs in between slow, sucking kisses. It sends little shockwaves of pleasure through Yusuf, and he’s so hard his cock is drooling by now. Nicolò groans against the skin of his neck.

“You taste so good, Yusuf.” A slow lick along his skin. “I could _gorge_ myself on you.”

The thought of doing this long enough for Nicolò to be that sated has Yusuf moan. “Can we do that? Because I want to try.”

Nicolò’s slick fingers push between Yusuf’s upper thighs, slick with oil. He hums, nuzzling behind Yusuf’s ear as he rubs oil into his skin. “I think so,” he breathes, fingers slipping out. A shift of his hips has his cock slide between Yusuf’s thighs from behind, hot and hard and surprisingly good. Yusuf shivers again, pressing his thighs together on instinct, and Nicolò groans. “ _Fuck_ , like that….”

It’s slow and lazy, Nicolò’s hips rocking against Yusuf’s ass. His cock feels incredibly big between Yusuf’s thighs, sliding back and forth in that tight, warm space, the head rubbing against his balls on every long glide. Nicolò’s hand is stroking up and down his belly, reaching up to play with his nipples every now and then. Yusuf moans every time those clever fingers pinch one. He arches back into Nicolò, breathless with how good it feels – and certainly a part of that is that this is _Nicolò_ , the incubus’ own brand of magic curling lazily around them, but Yusuf doesn’t care. He cranes his head back, wanting a kiss, and Nicolò must be able to sense it, or maybe read his body language, because his mouth is right there, hot and wet and just as eager.

Eventually, the need grows to be too much, and Yusuf reaches down to wrap his own hand around his cock. Nicolò is faster, his still slightly oil-slick grasp just _perfect_ , and it takes barely three strokes until Yusuf shudders apart in his arms, spills hot and wet over Nicolò’s fingers. He’s waiting for the low groan, the wet spill between his legs that will announce Nicolò’s own peak, but neither happen. Yusuf blinks his eyes open, cranes his head to look at Nicolò – red pupils burning against his black eyes, Nicolò looks _hungry_. “Will you clean up your mess, Yusuf?” he asks in a rough whisper. Yusuf doesn’t understand for a heartbeat, and then Nicolò’s hand slips out from beneath their blankets, wet with Yusuf’s own spend. His softening cock twitches, and Yusuf never knew that was something he was interested in, but right now everything in him screams _Yes_. He rests his head back against Nicolò and opens his mouth, and there’s that low groan he loves to hear, the one that says Nicolò is just as gone as Yusuf is.

Nicolò’s fingers taste salty and a little bitter, and Yusuf licks and sucks them clean one by one as Nicolò offers them to him, his lover’s hips rocking faster and harder against him as he does. Nicolò makes a pained noise when Yusuf sucks two of his clean fingers back into his mouth, and then there’s the warm, wet slickness against his skin Yusuf has been craving.

The knowledge that he was the one to make this experienced, beautiful incubus come is making him feel powerful, and it gives him enough confidence to let Nicolò’s fingers slip from his mouth and turn his head.

“Are _you_ going to clean up _your_ mess now, Nico?”

Nicolò laughs, bright and happy, and then he’s gone from behind Yusuf and Yusuf is on his back, a smirking incubus between his legs. “Since you asked so nicely,” Nicolò purrs, and then his tongue flicks out and laps the first bit of his spent from Yusuf’s thigh. Yusuf groans.

Nicolò is curled up on his side in their nest of furs and blankets, watching without shame as Yusuf wades into the water. The firelight reaches just far enough for him to be able to see him – and maybe that is because he has exceptional night vision, but Nicolò doesn’t feel bad about neglecting to mention that bit. Yusuf is scooping up handfuls of water to clean the remaining oil and seed from his skin, and though he is thoroughly sated Nicolò imagines following those droplets with his tongue the way he did earlier. Yusuf’s cock is beautiful even soft, nice and long and looking like a good mouthful. Nicolò licks his lips, wondering if Yusuf will trust him and his fangs enough to let him get his mouth around his cock eventually. Nicolò doesn’t bite… unless very specifically asked to.

Done with cleaning himself, Yusuf cups more water in his hands and dinks, and some spills over and runs into his beard and down his throat. Nicolò makes a low, whining noise as he watches. The man is unfairly attractive, and all of Nicolò’s instincts want to lay claim to him. _Mate_ , some old, mostly-buried instinct whispers deep in his mind.

Nicolò strangles it, ruthlessly. He cannot afford to hope, not until all secrets are out in the open… and his have been enough to send everyone running.

Yusuf wades back out of the water, naked and unashamed now, and that tiny bit of hope stirs again. Nicolò watches him dry off and pull his tunic back on, and then Yusuf crawls back into their nest uncaring of Nicolò’s still red-on-black eyes. He kisses him uncaring of the sharp fangs, then fits himself against Nicolò’s back and falls asleep with a soft sigh.

Nicolò stares into the flames and wonders.

_Maybe…_


	4. Of Homes and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuf coaxes Nicolò into revealing his secrets, and there are advantages of being with an incubus... experience is one of those...  
> An incubus and a Rune Master, spinning ever closer.

The wards tingle gently over Nicolò’s skin as he passes them, welcoming him back. The house sitting at the end of the dusty road was once a farmhouse, but Nicolò and Yusuf have no interest and little talent for farming, so the stables remain empty except for their horses and a few goats. It would be difficult to survive here like this for most people… but most people are not a Rune Master and an incubus who are used to living rough. After months of sleeping on sand and the occasional patch of grass for Yusuf and years of the same for Nicolò, a bed made of a straw mattress and sturdy linens and warm furs is a luxury. The villagers in the settlement a day’s ride down the road are always happy to trade for a new set of wards around their homes, or in exchange for a little manual labor every now and then. The war has left behind many widows, many mothers who are missing sons and husbands to help around the house.

It has been months living like this, and Nicolò still barely dares to believe it is real. But the wards are a reminder every time he steps into the perimeter Yusuf declared _home_ , and Yusuf himself reminds him every time Nicolò opens the door and walks into the house. This time is no different, as soon as Nicolò opens the door Yusuf looks up from the scroll he was writing on, and the wide smile warms Nicolò all the way through. “You’re back early.”

“I was lucky,” Nicolò says, holding up his catch in explanation. “Why, did you miss me?”

It is meant as a tease, but Yusuf nods and sets his quill down carefully before he stands and crosses the distance to where Nicolò is shrugging out of his cloak. “I always miss you when you are gone,” the Rune Master tells him as if it’s nothing, as if Nicolò’s stupid heart doesn’t flutter with the words. Yusuf takes what’s about to become dinner from Nicolò and brushes his lips against Nicolò’s cheek. “I will take care of these.”

Nicolò’s cheek feels warm where Yusuf kissed it, and he can’t help the smile tugging on his lips. “Thank you,” he says and means both Yusuf volunteering to clean his catch and everything else – thank you for being with me, thank you for accepting me, thank you for not pushing. Thank you, for making me feel safe with you.

Because Yusuf hasn’t pushed, not once since they found this abandoned place and claimed it for themselves. He shares a bed with Nicolò, and the times he reaches for Nicolò at night or in the mornings when he returns from praying are about equal with the times Nicolò reaches for Yusuf… but they have gone no further than they had on the road. Hands, Yusuf’s cock between Nicolò’s thigh or his between Yusuf’s, or occasionally just kissing each other breathless as they rock and squirm against each other until they make a mess between their bodies.

Nicolò _could_ be content with that, were it anyone but Yusuf he’s with. He yearns to share all he knows with him though, yearns to show him all the pleasures he can give… but to do so would mean to drop his glamor in full, and he isn't entirely sure he’s ready yet to show all of himself to Yusuf.

“Nicolò? Is something wrong?”

Nicolò starts, and realizes he stood staring in front of their door for quite a while. Yusuf sounds worried, and Nicolò manages a smile for him. “No,” he answers, “no, just me woolgathering. Do we still have clean water?”

“Clean water, _and_ I re-cast the runes around the basin.” Yusuf smirks at him over his shoulder, already working to clean Nicolò’s catch. “You can have warm water to wash with.”

Nicolò’s heart flutters against his ribs again, and this time his smile is genuine. “I’m going to repay you for that… later,” he promises, allowing his voice to drop a little lower, go a little smoky. Yusuf’s eyes darken, the familiar scent of his lust thickening in the air, and there, that is familiar territory.

“Later,” Yusuf agrees before returning his attention to his task, and Nicolò gives himself a shake and goes to wash the traces of his hunt from his skin.

_Later_ , today, means Nicolò cleans up after their dinner while Yusuf goes to pray. He makes sure the fire is banked properly – Yusuf cast runes around the hearth, to protect their current home from any stray sparks or flame, but Nicolò prefers to be thorough. His mother was among the survivors of the Great Fire of Rome, and her caution has engraved itself into Nicolò’s memory. He adds another log, makes a slow round of their home to blow out all the candles except the one by Yusuf’s prayer mat, and then strips down to his tunic and slips between the furs and blankets of their bed, content to wait and watch as Yusuf moves with his prayers.

Yusuf joins him in their bed when he is done, making a pleased noise when Nicolò’s warm skin brushes his. They have not bothered to go to bed wearing even a tunic for weeks now, confident in the security of their home. “You’re so warm.”

“Hmm, and I warmed our bed for you,” Nicolò purrs, feeling playful. Yusuf laughs and kisses him, slow and unhurried, and Nicolò hums and tugs Yusuf on top of him, wraps his arms around him and holds him close.

They kiss, slow and sweet and long enough Nicolò thinks this might be all they’ll do tonight. It would be more than fine, he is well-sated these days with Yusuf so willing to tumble him into their sheets or be tumbled… but then Yusuf rolls onto his side, still pressed close against Nicolò’s side, wraps clever fingers around Nicolò’s hard dick and strokes. Nicolò moans and arches into it, entirely willing to let Yusuf play.

“Look at me,” Yusuf whispers after a few strokes, his lips brushing Nicolò’s ear. “Let me see your gorgeous eyes, my darling.”

Nicolò whimpers, knowing his eyes must be their true red-on-black by now, but he can’t deny Yusuf anything. He blinks his eyes open, turns his head to look at Yusuf, and trembles all over at the look of adoration on his face.

“Beautiful,” Yusuf whispers. His hand disappears for a moment and returns freshly slicked, strokes a little faster, a little tighter. “Nicolò, my darling…”

He leans in for another kiss, licks into Nicolò’s mouth and moans when he finds Nicolò’s fangs. Nicolò trembles harder when Yusuf deliberately presses his tongue against one fang, unafraid of the sharp tip. “Nicolò,” Yusuf whispers into his ear, breathless from their kiss. His hand slows down again on Nicolò’s cock. “There’s more, isn't there? My beautiful incubus…”

Nicolò gasps, staring. He shakes his head, but Yusuf just leans in to brush their mouths together again, so slow and sure. His hand doesn’t stop stroking, and _oh_ but Yusuf has gotten skilled at this. Nicolò whimpers when clever fingers stroke over a sensitive spot, back and forth. “Don’t be afraid,” Yusuf whispers. He throws a leg over Nicolò’s, shifts closer so Nicolò can feel how hard he is. The taste of his arousal in the air is heavy and sweet. “Show me, darling. I want to know all of you… I want to _have_ all of you.”

Nicolò whines, low and desperate. Hadn’t he just thought how safe he felt with Yusuf, how glad he was Yusuf wasn’t pushing? Now he pushes, and Nicolò is surprised by it and doesn’t have defenses in place. “You don’t _know_ ,” he gasps out, so afraid. His body has other ideas, arching into the slow strokes along his cock. “Yusuf!”

“I don’t know, no,” Yusuf murmurs. His lips trail sweet little kisses along Nicolò’s throat. “But I know you, my darling. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I can feel your magic against my skin… let it go, Nico. Let me see, I know you’re so beautiful.”

Nicolò whimpers and hides his face against Yusuf’s throat, battling his own instincts. They tell him to lay himself bare before his lover, let him see all there is. Yusuf _asked_ , though he cheated by asking when Nicolò is already hungry for his touch, his body. He’s never shied away from Nicolò’s eyes, from his strength…

Yusuf’s thumb strokes across the crown of his cock, slow and deliberate. Nicolò shivers and reaches up with both hands, pulls Yusuf into a kiss. _Please don’t let this be a mistake, please_ … He doesn’t even know who he’s praying to as he releases his conscious hold on his glamor, allows the small shift to occur.

Yusuf must feel the wash of magic because he purrs into the kiss, but he takes his time in stealing Nicolò’s breath, in returning his heart to a galloping pace because he’s aroused and not afraid. When he finally pulls back from Nicolò’s lips, Nicolò doesn’t resist when he’s gently nudged onto his back again.

Yusuf’s gaze feels like a caress as it trails over Nicolò’s skin. Nicolò can hear the sharp intake of breath, but there’s no tension in the body pressed against his, no change to the taste of lust in the air. “You are so beautiful,” Yusuf whispers, and Nicolò’s eyes snap open again from where he’d shut them tightly. Brown eyes look down at him, warm and dark with need. “I mean it, my darling. Though now I am slightly more worried about taking all of you.”

His hand strokes up Nicolò’s cock again in emphasis, and Nicolò has no idea how, but he manages a huff of amusement mixed in with a low moan. “I can… _oh_! I can promise you’ll enjoy it,” he tells Yusuf, then whimpers when the stroking hand speeds up. “Oh fuck, please don’t stop!”

“I won’t,” Yusuf promises, and he doesn’t. He keeps stroking, the glide helped by how much Nicolò’s cock is leaking, and he holds Nicolò’s gaze, doesn’t look away once as Nicolò shivers and moans and breaks for him. Yusuf strokes him until he hisses with oversensitivity, then lets him curl into his chest and breathe until his heart has calmed down. His hand strokes up and down Nicolò’s back in slow, gentle caresses, and he doesn’t flinch when his hand brushes the spot where Nicolò’s tail emerges from his spine. Nicolò _does_ flinch, but when all Yusuf does is hum soothingly and stroke his hand back up, he relaxes again bit by bit.

“Were you afraid because of the tail or because you’re… well…”

“Big?” Nicolò finishes for him with a soft sigh. “Either. Both. All of it. The tail was the last bit it took for… a few people to run. It’s inhuman, not sexy, they can’t ignore it when I close my eyes…”

Yusuf growls, low in his chest. His hand slides down Nicolò’s back again, and this time his fingertips deliberately run along Nicolò’s tail for as far as he can reach. Nicolò shivers with the touch, and his tail slowly moves so Yusuf can stroke all of it. Yusuf hums, wraps careful fingers around the width of it. It’s not that big, maybe three of Nicolò’s fingers at the widest point where it grows out of his tailbone, but it’s all muscle and sensitive skin, and it hasn’t been touched in years. “You are beautiful,” Yusuf murmurs again. “I don’t care that this makes you something not quite human. It’s a part of you, same as your pretty eyes and fangs.”

“And claws,” Nicolò whispers, holding up one hand. It takes a bit of conscious magical effort to release those, but he can tell the moment his fingertips lengthen, and his nails thicken, turn sharp and wicked. “Grandfather apparently still had wings. My mother didn’t, or if she did, she never showed them.”

Yusuf’s hand returns to his back, to the slow and gentle stroking. The other takes Nicolò’s clawed hand, cradles it between them as if it’s something precious. Nicolò’s heart stutters, then settles into a new rhythm.

“Why the differences?” Yusuf asks softly. “Can you tell me?”

Nicolò sighs. “There’s no great secret to it,” he admits. “It’s… we’re all half-bloods, or even less than that. I think the last full incubus in my line was my great-grandmother, and when she died Rome was just beginning to consider itself a power. Her children were sired by a human man, and my grandfather had children with a human woman… and my father was a human man as well. Some things just… disappeared over time.”

Yusuf hums, his fingers dancing up Nicolò’s spine to play with his hair. It feels nice and is familiar – Yusuf likes playing with Nicolò’s hair, can spend hours petting him when they rest curled together. That he does it now is what, more than anything, convinces Nicolò that his lover really is as unbothered by his appearance as he claims to be. A little doubt remains, but Nicolò is aware it will take a long time for that to change. For the moment, he feels safe again in Yusuf’s arms, and relaxes with a sigh. _Mate_ , that old, old instinct whispers again. Nicolò isn't quite as fast to silence it, this time.

“You’re still full of secrets, aren’t you?” Yusuf asks, but there’s no suspicion to the words, just… excitement? Nicolò blinks and shifts so he can look at Yusuf. The Rune Master is smiling, and there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’m going to enjoy teasing them all out,” Yusuf tells him, and his hand slides down again and cups Nicolò’s ass, squeezes the full globe and pulls him in tight against Yusuf’s body. Nicolò shivers with the touch, and with the realization that Yusuf is still more than half-hard against his thigh, still smells of lazy arousal. Yusuf licks his lips, slow and intentional, and Nicolò laughs and rolls them until Yusuf is spread out beneath him.

“You,” he purrs, nose to nose with this impossible man, grinning himself now, “you are a tease, Yusuf al-Kaysani, and you’re playing with fire here.”

Yusuf’s hands come to rest on his back, on his ass with familiar ease. “I have spells to help with putting out all kinds of fires,” he answers, and he’s still wearing that wicked smile. “In fact…”

His hand moves, fingers set against Nicolò’s skin as if to draw a rune, and Nicolò laughs and kisses him, feeling lighter than he has in all the months since he died but did not die. Yusuf kisses him back, eager and warm and welcoming, and the sweet, heady taste of his lust blooms in the air around them, makes Nicolò moan with how _good_ it tastes.

“I could eat you up,” he breathes against Yusuf’s mouth, both of them still winded from the kisses. “Stars above, Yusuf… what do you want, just tell me, I’ll give you everything…”

“I want _you_ ,” Yusuf breathes back. His hips roll up beneath Nicolò’s weight, rubbing his erection against Nicolò’s thigh. “You promised you’d show me, please Nico… I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

Nicolò’s cock hardens so quickly he should be lightheaded. He presses Yusuf down into their bed, holds him there with his weight and just a hint of his strength as he kisses him again, licks into his mouth in a mimicry of what he wants to do with Yusuf’s body. A hint of his fangs pressed into Yusuf’s lower lip makes his lover whine and tremble, and the taste of his lust gains more notes. Nicolò’s head spins.

“You are intoxicating,” he purrs, nips Yusuf’s lip just to hear that whine again. Yusuf’s hands cling to him, his shoulder and his hip as if Nicolò is his anchor, his dark eyes so wide with lust. He’s a vision already, and Nicolò can’t wait to see him wrecked.

He remembers what Yusuf told him, though, curled around each other at a campfire months ago.

_“Once, with someone who… didn’t know what we were doing either. I didn’t enjoy it very much.”_

He promised to show Yusuf how good it can be, to be that full of someone else, and he will take his time if it kills him. It isn’t as if it would stick.

“You’ll have me,” he promises, sucks on that full lower lip briefly just to see Yusuf shiver, hear him moan. “We’ll go slow though… you’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

Yusuf actually _tilts his head back_ , bares his throat to Nicolò. “I know,” he whispers. “I trust you, Nico.”

Something inside Nicolò, something old and hard and bitter, shatters. It hurts a little, but the rush of warmth those words cause washes that small hurt aside easily. Nicolò exhales, presses his lips to that vulnerable stretch of throat. “Grab the oil,” he murmurs, smiling at how eagerly Yusuf stretches to reach the stoppered bottle. He hands it over, and Nicolò kisses him again before he rolls to his side in mimicry of their earlier position. Only now, it’s Yusuf spread out on his back and vulnerable, and Nicolò pressed into his side. Nicolò thumbs the ridges on the bottle and watches Yusuf for a moment.

“Promise me you’ll tell me the moment you’re uncomfortable,” he then asks. Yusuf opens his mouth and Nicolò can see he’s about to protest, so he holds up one finger. His claws are gone by now, shifted back into his fingers. “Not with me, but with how something feels or with what I’m doing,” he elaborates. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with anything, Yusuf.”

Yusuf’s face shifts from protest to consideration before he nods. “I promise,” he murmurs, “but I don’t think you’ll do anything I won’t like.” Then he has the gall to stretch and pull up a leg, angle it out to lay himself bare before Nicolò.

If he was younger, or cared less about overwhelming Yusuf, Nicolò would dive in and feast like a starving incubus. Because he isn't, he takes a deep breath and sets down the bottle to pet and stroke his way over Yusuf’s body, nibble at his jaw through the thick beard. “I am going to make you feel so good,” he whispers into Yusuf’s ear when his lover is a shivering, needy mess in their sheets, the erection that had flagged a little back to full hardness. “I am going to wring you dry, my beautiful Yusuf.”

“Please,” Yusuf whispers, arching into Nicolò’s petting hands. Nicolò hums and very deliberately scrapes one nail over a pebbled nipple, watches Yusuf’s mouth fall open into a little “oh” of pleasure and his cock twitch where it’s drooling onto Yusuf’s belly. Nicolò wants to taste it, badly, so he swipes his fingers through the mess and licks them clean with a little purr. Yusuf whispers a curse, and Nicolò smirks around his fingers, then slides them in deep and hollows his cheeks, sucks on his fingers as if they were something longer, something thicker. Yusuf’s desperate groan tells him his lover understood perfectly well.

Nicolò lets his fingers slide free and trails the wet tips around Yusuf’s nipple again, slow, teasing. “Would you like my mouth on you, Yusuf?” he asks, voice dripping low again. This is what he knows, what he has done so many times. Tease out a person’s desires, give them a taste and then disappear into the night… only he won’t disappear on Yusuf, and the thought that he might have decades, centuries with him to tease out all his desires, all his needs… Nicolò’s tail lashes the bed behind him in excitement. _Mate_ , the voice inside whispers again.

“Yes,” Yusuf gasps out, “Nicolò, oh… please, I want… show me everything you know, please!”

Desire is a dizzy swirl in Nicolò’s blood, and he has to kiss Yusuf, has to taste those lips again, feel how easily Yusuf opens for him. He reaches for the bottle of oil blindly, fumbles it open and then forgets about it for a long moment when Yusuf sucks on his tongue, fists his hand in Nicolò’s hair to hold him still.

“There,” he rasps when he finally releases Nicolò. “Now you’re as desperate as you made me, my darling.”

Nicolò licks his lips, swallows, and then smirks. The oil is silky-slick on his fingers as he coats them. “Are you sure you want to challenge me on that, my beautiful Yusuf?” he murmurs, watching Yusuf watch _him_ as he rubs the oil over his fingers. “I _am_ a sex demon.”

“You are _my_ demon,” Yusuf corrects, reaching up with one hand to pull Nicolò down into another kiss. This one is surprisingly soft and chaste, considering how needy they both are and what Nicolò is about to do, but it feels so right to just brush his lips against Yusuf’s, feel his beard brush Nicolò’s own skin. “Now show me, my incubus. _Ruin me_.”

Nicolò’s tail smacks the bedding behind him, hard enough to tingle up his spine. His eyes must be absolutely burning, but Yusuf doesn’t flinch back, doesn’t look away. He angles his leg even wider, arches his back in invitation, and Nicolò stands no chance to refuse. He briefly wonders when Yusuf learned his weak spots so well, but truth be told, he doesn’t care right now. All he cares about is that Yusuf is there, naked and willing and tasting of lust and want, all for Nicolò to take.

Going slow takes effort, but Nicolò forces himself to be patient. Yusuf’s trust is a shining jewel, one he will not see damaged. His oil-damp fingers trail down his belly, wrap briefly around that tempting cock to stroke it once, twice. Yusuf moans, then whimpers when Nicolò releases him and strokes his fingers lower. Yusuf’s balls are clean-shaven as the rest of him, warm and heavy when Nicolò cradles them in his hand for a moment. Yusuf shifts, just a little, and Nicolò chuckles and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I will take my time with those soon,” he whispers. “I want to taste you, Yusuf… take you in my mouth and hold you there until you’re begging me. You’d have to hold nice and still, wouldn’t want to nick anything on my fangs… Would you like that, hmmm? To be at my mercy?”

The sound Yusuf makes is deep and guttural, wrenched from deep within. “Yes,” he hisses. “Yes, Nico, fuck… I’d let you do anything to me, with me… Nico, please!”

_Anything_. It’s a dangerous thing to say to any demon, and Yusuf has to know that. Nicolò tucks it away next to the shimmering jewel of Yusuf’s trust, that little word that holds so much meaning, so much promise. “Relax for me,” he purrs, releasing the heavy weight of Yusuf’s balls to trail his fingers further down. Yusuf is so warm here, and slightly damp from clean sweat. Nicolò’s fingers slide between his cheeks easily, rub up and down the sensitive crack and over the tightly furled hole, trailing oil as he goes. Yusuf twitches every time Nicolò’s fingers brush past his entrance.

“Hush,” Nicolò purrs against his cheek, nuzzles him affectionately. He reaches for the bottle again, slicks more oil over his fingers. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Yusuf whispers, turning his head for another kiss. Nicolò gives it to him, freshly slicked fingers sliding back between his cheeks. He rubs gentle circles over the tight furl of muscle now, stroking and rubbing until the tension in Yusuf’s muscles melts away and leaves him limp against Nicolò. He ends the kiss to peer at Yusuf’s face as he slowly presses the tip of one finger against that slick muscle, feels it give and accept the slow intrusion. Yusuf’s brow furrows a little, but he doesn’t tense, doesn’t wince. Nicolò kisses his cheek, holds still once his finger is pushed in to the first knuckle. Yusuf is so hot and tight around him, and Nicolò’s head is spinning with the knowledge of how he will feel around his cock… eventually. Because there is no way Nicolò is going to rush this, no way he will replace the look of wonder, of growing _want_ on Yusuf’s face with anything close to pain.

“More,” Yusuf breathes eventually, “please Nico, give me more.”

Nicolò smiles and nods, pulling out a little to Yusuf’s disappointed whimper before pushing back in. He repeats the motion, going deeper each time but keeping the slow pace until Yusuf is taking the digit easily, moaning every time Nicolò pushes it in deep. Nicolò holds it there, as deep as he can go, and watches the emotions play over Yusuf’s face. There’s surprise there, followed by need… and then, when Nicolò twists his wrist a little and finds that hidden nub, pure pleasure. Yusuf’s eyes scrunch shut and his mouth falls open on a moan, his whole body arching as Nicolò strokes gentle pressure over that spot. “Nico!”

Nicolò chuckles and drops a kiss next to one screwed-shut eye. “I promised I’d make you feel so good,” he murmurs. “Breathe, Yusuf.”

Yusuf sucks in a breath, then another one, and his body relaxes again when Nicolò stops playing with the little nub and instead goes back to stroking his finger in and out, a little faster now. Yusuf gives him little sighs and moans for each long glide, his body open and willing for Nicolò. He moans his disappointment when Nicolò’s finger slips all the way out, then gasps when two fingertips rub over his hole before pushing in just a little. Again, Nicolò pauses with his fingers in just to the first knuckle.

Yusuf sucks in a trembling breath, then relaxes again with a soft moan. “That feels…” he whispers, licks his lips. Those beautiful brown eyes open, and they stare at Nicolò as if he is the answer to all questions Yusuf ever asked. _Mate, mate, mate_ that tiny voice inside chants, and Nicolò grits his teeth against saying it out loud.

“Good?” he asks instead, sliding his fingers out and pushing back in just a little. Yusuf moans and nods, reaching for Nicolò with one hand. Nicolò smiles and leans into the seeking hand, nuzzles the palm and then nips at the tips of Yusuf’s fingers with his sharp teeth. Yusuf shivers, and it should not be possible but his eyes go even darker.

“So good,” he breathes, and his muscles clench around Nicolò’s fingers. “Move them? Please? I want to know…”

Nicolò stands no chance, and he begins to believe he never did with this man. He leans down to kiss Yusuf again, purrs low in his throat when Yusuf’s fingers stroke into his hear and grab a handful to hold him there. He moves his fingers slowly, strokes them out and back in again at a lazy pace, and drinks Yusuf’s moans from his lips. At this rate, he will be pleasure-drunk and so sated he won’t want to move come dawn. The noise Yusuf makes when Nicolò starts spreading his fingers, starts to work him further open and stretch that tight muscle out for more, is indecent and would make Nicolò blush if he had any shame left.

He doesn’t, not with Yusuf.

“More,” Yusuf breathes between kisses, tugging lightly on Nicolò’s hair. “Please, it feels so good… give me more… I want to be full of you, my Nico!”

Nicolò groans, resting his forehead against Yusuf’s. They’re so close, and he stares into those lust-dark eyes as he slips his fingers out, goes for more of the slippery oil. Yusuf is breathing with him, and it feels as if they’re breathing each other in. Nicolò wants to hold Yusuf’s scent in his lungs, wants to make it a part of his own body until he smells of this man in a way no amount of water and soap will eliminate. The words are caged behind his teeth, kept in check with sheer desperation, because he will not ask this of Yusuf as well, not when his lover is this far gone for him. Three fingers nudge and push at the loosened rim, stroke and tease until Yusuf sucks in a breath to protest. Then Nicolò pushes them in, slow but unstopping until they are all the way inside, snug in Yusuf’s hot body.

The noise Yusuf makes in reaction is one Nicolò will never forget, no matter how many more centuries he will see. Yusuf’s entire body shivers, Nicolò can feel it where they’re pressed close, where his fingers are deep inside. “Good?” he asks, maybe a little smug but certainly quite breathless. It almost feels as if this is his first time, too.

“So good,” Yusuf agrees in a whisper, staring up at Nicolò with wide eyes. Nicolò manages a smile, manages to kiss Yusuf softly instead of devouring him the way he yearns to.

“Nothing hurts?”

“It aches,” Yusuf breathes, and Nicolò almost pulls his fingers free again, has drawn in breath to apologize already. “Feels good though,” Yusuf adds, and something deep within Nicolò relaxes again. He trails little kisses along the edge of Yusuf’s beard, flicks his tongue out to taste the salty skin. It feels as if a small eternity passes before Yusuf sucks in a breath and turns his head, brushes their lips together once more. His hand in Nicolò’s hair gives a little tug. “Move.”

Nicolò chuckles. “So decisive now, my darling?”

“Yes,” and Yusuf’s muscles flutter around Nicolò’s fingers as he clenches them. “Please?”

“I can deny you nothing,” Nicolò admits against those warm, full lips. It is not a secret anymore, not after Yusuf’s gentle pleading made Nicolò show him his true form. He makes sure Yusuf can’t ask anything else of him by kissing him, and then, because Yusuf is hot and warm and pliant around his fingers and because Nicolò’s patience is straining at the bit, he starts to move his hand.

Yusuf groans into their kiss, his hand dropping from Nicolò’s hair to cling to his shoulder instead. Nicolò purrs a little, drowning in Yusuf, his scent and his lust and how deep his trust runs. He loses track of time, loses track of everything but Yusuf, his taste and his scent and the soft little moans he drinks straight from Yusuf’s mouth.

“I want you,” Yusuf finally says, no, pleads. Nicolò blinks and realizes how easily Yusuf’s body is taking his fingers now, how fast that hand is moving. He slows down, strokes the muscle that’s stretched wide around his fingers, crooks them just a little… and Yusuf yelps, his body jerking against Nicolò’s as Nicolò finds that spot again. He chuckles.

“Not yet,” and then, because Yusuf’s pleading expression tells him he would be made to give in with just a few more words, he kisses him again and pulls his fingers free entirely. Yusuf bites his lower lip in protest, but Nicolò knows he will need more – both more oil, and more preparation. Yusuf _might_ be able to take him like this, but it would still be a lot. Nicolò would rather cut off his own tail than hurt this man.

Three fingers slide back into Yusuf’s body with slick ease, and Nicolò pumps them in and out a few times in apology for leaving Yusuf empty, brushes them over that little hard nub deep inside and listens to the groan that echoes between them. Then he pulls them out almost all the way and tucks his pinky finger in with the rest.

“Oh _fuuuck_ ,” Yusuf moans and his fingers dig deep into Nicolò’s shoulder, but his body opens around Nicolò’s fingers. “Nico!”

“I know,” Nicolò soothes. He doesn’t dare sit up to look down at where Yusuf’s body is spread open wide around his fingers, doesn’t dare look anywhere but those beautiful, lust-dark eyes. Yusuf is trembling a little against him, but he’s not tense at all. “I know, my darling. This is it, I promise.”

Yusuf gives a low whine, hips twitching against Nicolò’s hand. “I can take this,” he manages to say though it’s a little slurred, a little lust-drunk. Nicolò kisses him again, can’t take more of Yusuf’s promises, his words or he’ll lose the tight hold on his self-control. His tail has already escaped any semblance of control, stroking back and forth over the bedding behind him in a clear sign of his excitement. Even the brush of the fabric against his skin is adding to his arousal now.

Nicolò keeps kissing Joe, both to keep him from saying anything else and to distract him a little as he works him open further – and he’s been there, he knows intimately how it feels to be so full. There’s a faint tremble in Yusuf’s whole body, and Nicolò can taste in his kiss how close his lover is. The muscles around his fingers twitch and flutter even as they give and stretch under his careful attention, and Nicolò groans into their kiss and sucks Yusuf’s lower lip between his teeth to nip at it. Yusuf whines, and his hips rock up. They both freeze for a heartbeat, then Yusuf moans and does it again, and again – rocks up against Nicolò’s hand, against the fingers spreading him open. Nicolò has to break their kiss, has to gasp in air as if he’d been underwater for too long. “Yusuf,” he rasps.

“Nico,” Yusuf breathes, and the hand that clutched his shoulder strokes down Nicolò’s arm, long artist’s fingers wrapping around his wrist in a light hold. “Please, Nico… please.”

Nicolò rests their foreheads together and watches Yusuf’s eyes, feels his quick breaths mingle with Nicolò’s own. He goes back to three fingers and starts to move them faster, gives Yusuf a taste of what it might feel like to be pinned beneath a hungry incubus – though Nicolò is as far from hungry as he ever was, now. Yusuf’s lids flutter, but he keeps them stubbornly open, holds Nicolò’s gaze even as his body trembles and shivers.

“Touch yourself,” Nicolò orders gently, feels the shift as Yusuf’s other hand moves to wrap around his cock. The fingers of his other hand stay curled around Nicolò’s wrist, and that Yusuf doesn’t notice that his hold doesn’t hinder Nicolò’s now fast movement… well, Nicolò isn't surprised. He can taste Yusuf’s orgasm before he sees his pupils dilate, sees that before Yusuf’s body arches and clenches around his fingers, before the “ _Oh_!” falls from his lips.

Yusuf’s eyes finally close as he rides out his orgasm, and Nicolò watches him greedily, drinks him in in all senses of the word. He keeps moving his hand until Yusuf’s body calms, then holds them still deep inside as Yusuf’s mouth seeks his. The kiss is slow and soft, just a brush of lips on lips, and by the end of it, Yusuf is smiling. Nicolò can feel it.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the warm air between them. “That was…”

“Yes,” Nicolò agrees. He twitches his fingers a little just to feel Yusuf’s muscles flutter again. “Still want all of me?”

Yusuf hums, turning his head to nuzzle at Nicolò’s throat. “Yes,” he purrs, sounding lust-drunk still. Nicolò can relate, he himself is almost drunk on Yusuf. “Have me, my demon.”

Nicolò’s cock twitches where it’s pressed against Yusuf’s thigh, and his tail slaps hard against the bedding again. He wants, oh how he wants to slide his fingers out and roll on top of Yusuf and just slide into that warm, wet, open body… but he doesn’t. It might be selfish, but he wants Yusuf to be fully present for that, wants to see all his expressions, hear all his noises.

“Later,” he promises. Yusuf sighs, but he only starts to protest when Nicolò begins to ease his fingers free, clenches around them and makes a low noise. Nicolò stops, his heart in his throat. “Yusuf? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Yusuf says, and Nicolò’s heart calms down a little. “I just… I like how it feels?”

Nicolò chuckles and brushes his lips over one slightly flushed cheek. “Do you now,” he murmurs. “Are you going to be a greedy thing for me, my Yusuf?”

The flush deepens. “. . .I might.”

_Mate_ , the voice inside insists. Nicolò agrees with it, but that is something to be spoken about when they are both sober and not drunk on pleasure. “I am going to pull my fingers out,” he tells Yusuf gently, shushing the protest with a gentle kiss. “I have something… just stay here and stay nice and relaxed for me, yes?”

Yusuf sighs and nods, though he does shiver when Nicolò’s fingers slip out of his body. Nicolò kisses him again, then crawls out of bed and crosses the room to where the chest of his personal belongings sits. He can feel Yusuf’s gaze on him the whole way, and he doesn’t have the urge to hide his tail, his eyes, everything that marks him as _other_. Instead, he wants to preen, wants to stretch and show off for the man sprawled so sated in their bed. It feels good, and he finds he is smiling as he digs through the wrapped bundles that accompanied him from the last place he called home.

Yusuf’s dark gaze is a little more alert when Nicolò returns to their bed, the item he was looking for still wrapped in its cloth. “You’re beautiful,” he says, low and earnest, and Nicolò finds he’s the one who is blushing now. “Is it easier to walk with the tail out?”

“Yes and no,” Nicolò admits, curling back against Yusuf’s side. “I am used to being without it, now. It might actually throw me off to have to account for it in a fight.”

“I didn’t even know incubi had shapeshifting magic,” Yusuf says, and he sounds far too alert for Nicolò’s tastes. “Are your claws the same? And your…”

Nicolò grins. “My claws are an active bit of shapeshifting, yes,” he says. “The eyes and teeth and cock are a glamor. And you, my dear, are asking too many questions for someone who came on my fingers just a short while ago.”

Yusuf laughs and pulls him in for a kiss, short and affectionate. “Questions are easy,” he murmurs, his arm draped lazily over Nicolò’s shoulders. “Just do not ask me to stand up for another hour or so.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Nicolò promises with a grin he knows shows off his fangs. Yusuf’s eyes darken predictably. “In fact, for what I have in mind, you can stay in bed with me… just spread your legs for me again.”

“Hmmm,” Yusuf draws the hum out and his fingers slide into Nicolò’s long hair, tug a little. “What are you going to show me now, Nico?”

Nicolò idly muses on how much he likes the way Yusuf shortened his name as he unwraps what he left the bed to fetch. He holds it up so Yusuf can see it, and chuckles when Yusuf’s eyes widen. “It will fit,” he promises. “And it will warm up quickly.”

Yusuf swallows visibly, reaching up to touch a fingertip to the carved jade plug Nicolò is holding. It is cool right now, but Nicolò knows from personal experience how good that feels going in, and how quickly it warms up to body temperature. “I didn’t even know something like that existed.”

Nicolò smiles. “People have come up with ways to have fun almost as soon as they realized what fun could be had,” he says, something his mother and grandfather used to say, too. “It will go in easily, and stay where it is supposed to, see? It will keep you feeling full, and if you really want all of me, this little toy will keep you open for me for later.”

The flush that had been gone reappears on Yusuf’s cheeks, but he doesn’t shy away from Nicolò’s gaze or the toy. Instead, he sprawls on his back and spreads his legs wide, a sensual display that has Nicolò’s heart beat faster in his chest. “Do it,” his lover says, warm and inviting, and all the consent Nicolò truly needs.

More oil goes onto Nicolò’s fingers and then onto the plug, making it gleam a darker shade of green. Nicolò makes sure he has a firm grip on the base before he sets the tip against Yusuf’s entrance. “Relax for me,” he murmurs, and doesn’t watch the plug slide in. He can’t, because his self-control is not that good after all. Yusuf breaks him in the most interesting ways, and has him coming back for more.

“Oh,” Yusuf breathes as his body opens for the toy, then again, a little higher: “Oh!”

“Mhmm,” Nicolò agrees, stroking the slick skin where Yusuf’s body stretches around the small dip before the flared base. “I like how it feels when it’s still cool, just going in. So different from fingers or a cock.”

“Yes,” Yusuf agrees, a little breathy. He shifts experimentally, then purrs and shifts, turning onto his side to curl into Nicolò. “Want to nap with me?”

Nicolò shifts a little so he can snag the blankets and tug them over to cover them both up. The air is gaining a chill, and he doesn’t want to be cold. “I always want to nap with you,” he says, and the smile blooming on Yusuf’s face is beautiful, and warms Nicolò all the way through.

“I like the sound of that,” Yusuf murmurs, snuggling in closer and tucking his nose into Nicolò’s throat.

_Mate_ , the voice insists again, and Nicolò smiles into the semi-darkness of their home and wraps his arm tighter around Yusuf. “Yes,” he agrees and decides to ignore the way his tail has snaked over both their waists and draped itself over Yusuf possessively. “I do, too.”


	5. Fill me up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe has a craving, and Nicky is happy to fulfill it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter:  
> slight D/s, top Nicky, bottom Joe, anal fingering, anal fisting, kind of oral sex, Nicky's incubus tail, trust, dirty talk, Nicky's filthy mouth, multiple orgasms, anal sex, not quite somnophilia

One would think that, after more than 900 years spent with each other, a relationship might have settled into mutual affection, might have… settled, period. In Joe’s personal opinion, that is – to use a modern term – utter bullshit.

There are periods of time where he and Nicky are feeling less adventurous, are happy with sweet, gentle lovemaking. There are years, sometimes even a decade where their collection of toys and equipment stays in its cupboards and drawers and boxes. The attraction between them, however… that never changes. The most innocent thing can get Joe hot and bothered, the way Nicky stretches after sitting still for a while to read, the way he laughs, the way he handles a weapon…

Today, it’s the way Nicky handles his blades while teaching Nile how to throw them.

Their youngest sister is learning so many things, and she’s doing it so fast and with such a hunger for knowledge it’s a joy to teach her. Nicky is grinning, twirling his favorite set of blades through his fingers as he explains how to pull off trickier throws, and Joe’s gaze catches on those long, dexterous fingers.

The world slows to a stop around him, his attention focusing in on those fingers, the way they wrap easily around the handles of lethal weapons. Nicky’s hands are big, and Joe has intimate knowledge of how they feel in his hair, on his body… _in_ his body. Arousal is a sharp, hot burn in his blood.

Nicky’s gaze flicks past Nile, and he smirks. Joe grins back, unashamed – of course his incubus mate has noticed his sudden interest, Nicky can probably smell how hungry Joe is for him all of a sudden. But Nicky is a diligent teacher, his attention returns to Nile immediately. Joe breathes through the wave of hunger, of sheer need, and goes back to cleaning their guns.

They have time.

Nicky’s strong, lethal, _beautiful_ hands come to rest on Joe’s belly that evening as Joe’s brushing his teeth. Nicky presses in close against his back, red eyes peering at Joe via the mirror. Joe’s gaze drops to those hands, big against the worn t-shirt he’s decided on for bed tonight, and the arousal he’d pushed to the side flares up again. Nicky chuckles.

“My hands, beloved?”

“You,” Joe corrects around his toothbrush, then spits into the sink and rinses. “And your hands.”

Those hands stroke up and down a little over Joe’s t-shirt, ruck the fabric up just enough to reveal a strip of skin between the top of Joe’s sweatpants and the t-shirt hem. Joe’s spent quite a bit of time shirtless in the sun lately, teaching Nile swordplay and working on new rune sets in combination with their modern weaponry. His skin shows the results of that, though there’s a defined tan line where his pants sit.

Joe is pretty much shameless, but even he won’t go walking around naked with Nile yet so unused to how blasé their family is about such things.

One of Nicky’s fingers runs along that line now, causing Joe to shiver and for goosebumps to erupt all over Joe’s body. He sighs and leans into Nicky’s strength, lets his mate take his weight. “Don’t tease,” he pleads.

“It’s not teasing if I plan to deliver,” Nicky tells him, sounding amused and a little aroused. His lips trail along Joe’s throat, warm and just a little wet. “What do you want tonight, Yusuf?”

Joe smiles and closes his eyes. He’s gotten used to being called Joe, as he’s gotten used to most of his aliases over time, but to hear his birth name roll of Nicky’s tongue, unchanged over the centuries… _You are my home_ , he thinks.

“Can’t you tell?”

“Hmmm.” Nicky hums, low in his throat. Magic washes over Joe, speaking of glamor and shape-shifting. “I can… but I want to hear you say it.”

“Evil,” Joe protests, but he’s grinning. “Fine. I want you to work me open until I’m dripping wet and begging, and then I want you to fuck me with your hand… Nicolò.”

The incubus pressed against his back shivers hard enough for Joe to feel it. “Cheat,” his mate accuses, but he’s laughing, too. “Get yourself ready, my love. I’ll be waiting in our bed.”

“Can I have a kiss first?” Joe asks, still grinning. Nicky laughs and urges Joe to turn with gentle hands, cups his face with both palms and kisses him, slow and soft. It’s the kind of kiss that makes Joe fall in love with him all over again, the kind of kiss they’ve shared countless times over the centuries. Nicky ends it with a gentle nip of sharp fangs to Joe’s lower lip.

“Wash up, amore mio,” his mate whispers against his lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

Joe watches him turn and saunter out of the room – yes, _saunter_ , swaying hips and all. His tail is flicking lightly back and forth, and Joe stands and stares until Nicky is out of sight before he gives himself a shake and gets back to business.

Nicky has thrown a sheet over their bedding by the time Joe is done in the bathroom, and there’s one of the bigger bottles of lube waiting on the bedside table. Nicky himself is sprawled naked over their bed, eyes closed and a hand stroking his own cock in that lazy way that says he’s not even trying to get off, just teasing himself. His tail is idly tapping the bed next to him, and Joe could almost stand in the doorway and watch him all night. Almost, because his preparations have left him even hungrier for what’s about to happen.

Nicky’s eyes open on the heels of that thought, lips tugging into a lazy smile. “You’re so fucking delicious,” his incubus mate purrs. He arches into his own hand, showing off for Joe, and it works like a charm. Joe groans and walks to the bed as if drawn on a string, crawls up onto the mattress and on top of Nicky and curls against his mate’s warmth, kisses him because Nicky’s mouth is right there, and it’d be a crime not to.

“You ruin me,” he whispers against Nicky’s lips, rolls his hips against Nicky’s to listen to him moan. “Every damn time.”

“Gonna ruin you further,” Nicky promises, “you’re perfect, I’m so fucking lucky you found me… mine, my mate, my _everything_.” He’s clearly just as affected as Joe is, because he slips through three or four languages in that single sentence. Joe kisses him again, and then Nicky’s hands are on his ass, stroking and squeezing and dipping between his cheeks to tease at Joe’s hole. He moans into their kiss, pushes back into the touch greedily. His body is so used to Nicky’s touch after all those centuries, but he still remembers the thrill he felt when Nicky still had to take his time to work him open, when Joe would sometimes come on Nicky’s fingers and then again on his cock because Nicky was _that_ thorough. Sometimes he thinks that’s why he asks for Nicky’s hand, to recreate that thrill.

“Want to ride my fingers for a bit?” Nicky whispers, smiling a little as his fingertips tease at Joe’s already-relaxed rim. “Do a little of the work?”

“You just want to watch me lose it,” Joe accuses, kisses the edge of that smile. “Yes.”

One of Nicky’s hands leaves his ass, and they work together to pump lube into Nicky’s palm, coat his fingers. Then Joe goes back to kissing Nicky. It’s a neat way of muffling the noises he knows he’s about to make. He could scream the house down and nobody would notice, thanks to the runes embedded in walls and door jambs, but he feels like trying to be silent as long as he can tonight.

One of Nicky’s fingers slips in without any resistance, and Joe gives a low whine when all Nicky does is push that single finger in deep and hold it there. Nicky grins into their kiss.

“Move,” he breathes, then kisses Joe again. “Ride my fingers, baby.”

“Finger, you mean,” Joe gripes, but he does start rocking back against Nicky’s hand. He makes it as showy as he can on purpose, sitting up on Nicky’s thighs to stroke his own hands over his chest and belly, play with his nipples just the way he likes it. Arching his back with a low whine is pure show, that single finger not nearly enough to draw that kind of reaction from him in truth. Nicky laughs, low and amused.

“So eager,” he tells Joe, but then there’s two fingers nudging at his entrance, slipping in, and Joe sighs out his pleasure, the shiver less acting and more truth this time. This is more familiar territory, Nicky’s fingers working him open as Joe rides them in almost lazy rolls of his hips. Nicky watches him out of half-lidded, red-on-black eyes that are bright with hunger, lips licked wet and plump where he’s biting at them with his sharp teeth. He looks incredibly sexy, free hand back around his own dick in a loose grip, and Joe’s almost tempted to say _fuck it_ and ride that instead, impatience bubbling up… but it’s just a moment, and the sight of Nicky’s broad hand reminds him exactly what he asked for, exactly what sort of pleasure he’s working towards. His cock twitches and drools a little, and Nicky’s eyes burn brighter. “You’re so incredibly sexy like this,” his demon tells him, voice low and rough with arousal. “Even when you’re acting it up… I love watching you get lost in your pleasure.”

Joe smiles, a little breathless because Nicky’s fingers rub and nudge at his prostate on every push in. His thighs are starting to burn a little with the controlled rise and fall, and Nicky must be able to tell from his face, or maybe he has memorized how long Joe can keep this up. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Those perfect, broad fingers slip out, and Joe protests their loss with a low whine and a pout. Nicky hauls him down, uncaring about his sticky fingers, and kisses him. “Hush,” he purrs, and then Joe’s on his back on their bed, his bright-eyed incubus on top of him, smirking fit to give the Cheshire Cat a run for its money. His tail flicks back and forth behind his shoulders, completing the image. “My turn now. Just lie back and enjoy.”

Joe shifts a little to get comfortable, spreads his legs wide around Nicky. “Please,” he murmurs, skin tingling with fresh hunger – Nicky always, always does that to him. Warm lips brush his cheek, his jaw, trail down his throat. Nicky’s tongue flicks out in a wet little caress, then he’s sucking a mark into Joe’s throat. It won’t stay for long, but it still feels so damn good, and Joe hums in pleasure and sinks deeper into the bed.

“There we go,” Nicky says against his throat, and Joe moans in a mix of surprise and lust as he’s filled again, Nicky’s fingers obviously freshly slicked. “Now let’s get you up to taking my hand, my love.”

Spread out beneath his mate, Nicky’s considerable focus all on him, Joe is soon breathless again, arching and writhing as Nicky’s fingers and mouth pull pleasure from him with practiced ease. Nicky’s mouth is on his chest, his nipples, sucking on his cock with teasing flicks of his tongue before he’s kissing Joe, sharing his own taste with him as his fingers stroke and work and rub inside, convincing Joe’s body to relax and open for him.

It’s a throwback to their early days, when Joe needed that kind of preparation for penetrative sex, and at the same time it’s so different. Nicky’s sharp fangs nip Joe’s skin and he moans, the hint of pain stoking the pleasure higher. Nicky’s fingers stretch him wide and Joe whines for more, greedy for it and entirely unashamed. Nicky laughs against his skin and nips again, fucks him on three fingers until Joe is clawing at the bedding and pleading with Nicky to give him more and stop and not stop at the same time, dancing on the edge of orgasm but not wanting to come yet.

He doesn’t get a choice, not when Nicky smirks at him and swallows his cock down to the root in one go, fingers pushed deep and toying with Joe’s prostate at the same time. He’s dimly aware of yelling as he spills down Nicky’s throat, but he has no idea if there’s words in there because his muscles are going liquid and his brain is busy with fireworks.

Nicky sucks him until Joe whimpers weakly and tries to nudge him away with a knee, then sits up with a satisfied smirk and licks his lips. Joe’s spent cock gives a weak twitch at the sight, and Joe groans. “Fuck, Nicolò.”

Nicky grins, tips of his fangs peeking out. “What, trying to tell me you can’t give me two? We both know better, beloved.”

Joe hisses a curse as those talented, _cruel_ fingers start moving again, reminding him how open he already is. “I can,” he says, and Nicky leans up to kiss him, still tasting of Joe’s own orgasm.

“That’s the spirit,” his demon purrs. The teasing fingers slip out, leaving him wet and open and empty just for a moment. Joe bites his lip against the protesting whine, shifting his hips in an attempt to get Nicky to hurry the fuck up. Nicky watches him, not looking away even as he pours more lube over his hand, leaving his skin gleaming wet. “So greedy.”

“Just for you,” Joe manages. He feels bare beneath that red stare, not just because he’s naked and spread open for Nicky and vulnerable but also because those eyes know him so well, stare right into his soul. He doesn’t look away, lets Nicky see what it does to him when those fingers go back to rubbing around his entrance, then start to push in, all four of them this time. He holds Nicky’s gaze even as his lids flutter with the need to slip shut, even as his body arches for Nicky. “Please!”

Nicky’s free hand pets his side, strokes his hip, the inside of his thigh. “Hush,” he whispers, fingers pushing in deeper. Joe’s body opens for them, stretches around them, slick little sounds accompanying the movements. “I’ve got you, hayati… slow now, we’re not going to hurt you.”

Joe _knows_ that, with the same kind of certainty that he knows the sun will rise in the morning. Still, he can’t help but try to clench around Nicky’s fingers, make him go a little faster. His heart is beating so fast with arousal and anticipation now, so close to what he really wants, what he’s been craving since the need hit him that morning. Up until now it wasn’t anything they don’t do when they want to have sex anyway, but Nicky hasn’t used four fingers to prep him for that in ages. Four fingers are a clear sign for _more_ , and Joe’s breath comes high and fast in anticipation.

Nicky’s tail slithers up and taps against his cheek, warm and firm. “Breathe,” Nicky orders, holding his gaze as his fingers work Joe open further. Joe sucks in a breath, then another. Nicky’s tail strokes against his cheek, flicks over his lips. “Good boy.”

Joe licks his lips, staring up at Nicky. “Kiss me?”

Nicky’s gaze softens, and he shifts his weight to be able to kiss him and keep his fingers deep inside. Joe sighs into the kiss, untangles his fingers from the blankets to hold onto Nicky instead. It’s a moment of gentle reassurance, an _I love you_ that doesn’t require words. When they part, the desperate need in Joe’s veins hasn’t dimmed any, but he’s more settled in his skin, feels less as if he’s about to vibrate himself out of his bones. Nicky smiles at him, lets his fingers slide out before he pushes them in deep, and Joe moans for him, knows Nicky can see and hear and _taste_ how much Joe is enjoying himself.

“You are so beautiful,” Nicky whispers, his voice mingling with the slick sounds of his fingers working Joe open. “My perfect mate… ready?”

Joe nods, swallows. “Yes,” he whispers back, unable to look away from Nicky’s eyes. He can _feel_ how open his body is, how easily Nicky’s fingers enter him. He wants more, wants the stretch and the fullness and the knowledge of how deep is mate is laying claim to his body. “Please, Nico.”

Nicky kisses him again, short and sweet, and then he sits up and reaches for the lube again. Joe watches him flick the bottle open, gives a full-body shiver when Nicky tilts the bottle and slick lube pours out over his hand and Joe’s hole where his fingers are still in him, teasing at his rim. Nicky looks down finally, and the noise that punches out of him sends heat up Joe’s spine. “Fuck,” Nicky rasps. Joe can feel him shift, can feel the fingers move, and he can see the flex of Nicky’s arm just before there’s more pressure against his hole. Fingertips, knuckles, the wide stretch of Nicky’s palm… Joe shouts, wordless, when his body finally gives and Nicky’s hand slides in, his hole clamping down around Nicky’s wrist. His hands are back to clawing at the sheets, and he’s breathing just as hard as Nicky is, panting for air. He’s _so full_ of Nicky, can feel the pressure against his inner walls even before Nicky twitches his fingers. Knuckles brush against Joe’s prostate, and he sobs at the jolt of pleasure shooting out from the point of contact.

Nicky’s burning eyes flick up to Joe’s, then back down to where Joe’s stretched around his wrist, and Joe watches him lick his lips, watches him breathe in and settle himself and knows… and then Nicky’s fingers ball into a fist, and that fist is moving, making room for Nicky in Joe’s body, in his very _soul_. Joe sobs, draws in gasping breaths and he’s dimly aware he’s babbling but he has no idea what language he uses or even what he’s saying. Nicky keeps fucking him with his fist, slow but inescapable, and his free hand comes to rest on Joe’s belly, over where he’s so, so full of Nicky. Joe’s shoulders arch off the bed, his lower body pinned by the weight of Nicky’s hand inside him, but he _has_ to move, has to…

Nicky’s tail taps his lips again, slides in with familiar boldness to fill his mouth the way Nicky’s fist is filling his ass, and Joe feels dizzy with lust, pinned in place and filled and owned. He stares at Nicky over the length of his body, and his incubus smirks at him, bright-eyed. “You’re so loud, Yusuf,” Nicky rasps. “Wouldn’t do for anyone to hear you and come looking, now would it?”

Joe whimpers around the tail pressing against his tongue, and his cock drools against his belly. Nicky smirks. “I know you love showing off,” he tells Joe, and Joe is too far gone to say for sure but it feels as if his fist pushes deeper this time. There’s a fire licking at Joe, burning ever higher, and he’s powerless to stop it. “I know you’d love if someone came in and saw you like this, saw how you take _so much_ of me… but this is _mine_ , Yusuf… You are mine, and nobody else ever gets to have you like this.”

Joe whines, sucks on the tail in his mouth. He’d try to clench around the fist fucking him so perfectly, but he can’t, his body too open or maybe he’s too far gone for that level of coordination. The fire in his body licks higher, threatens to engulf him. Nicky’s tail twitches in Joe’s mouth, presses harder against his tongue. Nicky’s knuckles rub against his prostate again, a firm caress that shoots electricity up Joe’s spine, body spasming around Nicky. He’s caught in that burning gaze, is caught and lost and doesn’t ever want to be free again.

Nicky’s lips twitch into a smile. His tail twitches and presses against Joe’s tongue. His fist rubs right over Joe’s prostate.

Joe screams, the fire flaring up, engulfing him in white-hot ecstasy. Blackness follows, washing up around the edges of his vision, and Joe gives in and lets himself fall.

Nicky is there to catch him, after all.

Consciousness returns in a flood of sensations: Nicky’s lips against his cheek, his warmth all along Joe’s back, his arms strong and possessive around Joe… his cock, hot and hard where it’s pressing against Joe’s back. Joe purrs a little and snuggles back, listens to Nicky’s low groan.

“Fuck me.”

It’s slurred and raspy as all hell, but Nicky understands him anyway. The shiver going through his body is obvious, pressed close as they are. “Sure?” he asks, the arm around Joe tightening. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

Joe shifts, rolling forward a little and pulling a knee up. His hand reaches for Nicky’s. “’m sure,” he slurs. “Inside. Now.”

“Whatever you want,” Nicky whispers, and after so many centuries he doesn’t even have to look. Joe sighs his pleasure as he’s filled again, eyes drifting shut once more. He feels floaty, warm and sated, and the slow rocking of Nicky’s hips, the glide of nis cock into Joe’s stretched-out hole is soothing even as it sparks a low, simmering pleasure deep in his belly. Joe’s not going to get hard again, he’s too sated and boneless, but it still feels so damn good.

“I love you,” Nicky whispers against his cheek, squeezing their tangled fingers. He sounds as wrecked as Joe feels lazy. “Yusuf… my Yusuf.”

“Yours,” Joe agrees on an exhale, drawing their hands up to his mouth to kiss Nicky’s fingers. “All yours.”

He falls back asleep before Nicky comes, falls asleep to the gentle rocking of Nicky’s hips into him and warm, sweet kisses against his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make an author's day!


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